Diamonds in the Sky
by KathDMD
Summary: Upon graduating from the Space Academy, a family of fourteen students is split up. Five are sent to Arus on an expedition, five are stationed on the S.S. Explorer, and four remain grounded on Earth. This is a retelling with a twist. ***ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE***
1. Coming Home

_Author's Note_ _:_ _If you've made it over here because of my "Someone Like You" trilogy, thank you and welcome back. It helps a_ _little_ _bit if you're familiar with those three stories, because this is sort of a prequel to it. That being said, if you don't, then don't worry; it's not necessary._

 _There are lots—LOTS—of retelling stories. Many of them are good, some of them are great, but they all have one thing in common: it's the Voltron_ _Lion_ _Force, sometimes with a sprinkling of Vehicle Voltron thrown in for good measure._

 _If you're like me, then your first introduction to the Voltron Vehicle Force was in that cheesetastic mess better known as "Fleet of Doom," which I first saw in 1992. Twenty years later, as an adult, I tracked down six boxed sets—three Vehicle Voltron dubs and three Dairugger XV subs. (I already owned the DotU dubs and the GoLion subs.) After watching them, I realized just how underappreciated Vehicle Voltron is. So here is my own Voltron retelling, with settings literally around the universe, which doesn't simply relegate VV to a cameo appearance._

 _Yes, I know that the canon name for Commander Hawkins is James, but when I started writing about these characters 20-odd years ago, there was_ _no_ _first name, which is how Jonathan—or Jon—came about. I chose to keep the name Jon, not only because I like it and I'm used to it, but also because so many characters simply refer to him as "Hawkins" that I don't view it as an issue. Similarly, the canon name for Space Marshall Graham is Dylan, but because that didn't appear until the "Voltron: Year One" comic was introduced, I chose to keep the name I had made up for him, which is Matthias._

 _In addition, for those of you who haven't checked out my profile, this story is heavy on the OCs. If that's not your thing, then please bypass; this retelling is not for you. But if you're game, I think you might feel rewarded for your efforts, as my writing mixes all forms of Voltron: DotU/GoLion, VV/Dairugger, GV/Albegas, Nicktoons' VF, Image/DDP, Dynamite Press, Netflix's VLD, and even a little V3D (blech)._

 _I own nothing except my characters and planets, and I do this for entertainment and stress relief purposes only. I make no money off it._

 _Now let the madness begin._

 ** _Title Song: "Coming Home" by Skylar Grey_**

* * *

It all began with a legend: the legend of Voltron, the defender of the universe.

The story of a mighty robot, one which slaughtered demons and conquered evil, had been told for millennia. The mechanical wonder had been created through a combination of science, religion and magic; a theoretical savior for those living under tyranny.

It was the goddess Sarga of the Wyvern who destroyed him.

It wasn't so much that she destroyed Voltron, more that she had split him into five separate pieces. Lions. Why lions, no one could guess; explanations ranged from the whimsy of the goddess to the creation of a ship that looked foolish so as not to intimidate its enemies. Regardless of the reason, Voltron was no more, its parts buried deep within the heart of a beautiful planet in the Far Universe, and evil slowly... _steadily_...began to rebuild itself.

Thousands of years later, on Planet Earth, a Galaxy Alliance was formed. Initially, it consisted of three planets: Earth, Mira, and Sala. Eventually, the alliance expanded its horizons to include Hydra, Mira's twin planet, as well as planets from other solar systems, such as Terra of the Middle Universe, where they experienced the Drule threat for the first time.

Because of the threat of an attack from hostile aliens, the Galaxy Alliance decided to form a school on Earth to train young men and women how to defend their planets. Known as the Space Explorers Academy—or, more often than not, the _Space Academy_ or just _the Academy_ —the students trained in everything from piloting to shooting, engineering to systems analysis, navigation to interplanetary relations. The leaders decided to build this school on a small island just off the coast of the United States' Manhattan, which they christened _Garrison Island_ ; hence, _Galaxy Garrison_ was born.

Meanwhile, on Planet Terra, a young but well-respected biomedical systems analyst known as Moran joined forces with the two most highly-respected minds within the Galaxy Alliance: Professor Mizuki of Terra and Dr. Loring of Earth. Together, the three men—with the help of three young, extraordinarily-gifted students named Daisaku Enjoji, Tetsuya Jin, and Hotaru Mizuki—created what they coined Alpha/Beta/Gamma, or AlBeGas, as a prototype for what Voltron could have been. It was far from perfect, but it served its purpose, helping to keep the Drule threat away from Terra.

Then, honoring the two-year contract which had been previously installed, Moran and Loring secured the three AlBeGas mechas and brought them back to Earth, keeping them under tight security as Garrison property.

Albegas, as the prototype was referred to, was extensively researched; ripped apart and put back together again, Loring and Moran were able to piece together a new type of Voltron. Made up of fifteen parts, each one reminiscent of vehicles for the sea, sky and terrain, it was to be Earth's defender, much like the aforementioned Lion Voltron, which had disappeared so many thousands of years earlier.

It would be many years before the new Vehicle Voltron could be unveiled. In the meantime, Space Marshall Peter Graves, the head of the Galaxy Alliance, contacted J.C.H. Manufacturing & Steel to create the ultimate craft for his research purposes. It took ten years to construct, but the result was the Stellar Ship Explorer, commissioned by Jacob Christopher Hawkins and sent almost immediately into space to accurately chart a map of the solar system.

It was a shame that Graves never saw the Explorer in action. He was killed in a freak accident, though many of his subordinates claimed it was outright murder. Never proven, his death paved the way for the rise of his second-in-command, Commodore Charles Grayson Hingham.

Hingham was never liked or well-received as Space Marshall, considering the circumstances of his predecessor's death. Worse, his own second-in-command, Admiral Charles Riordan Wegener, was a Drule sympathizer, which made both of their cases less well-received. Things only grew worse when the High Command discovered that Wegener had obtained classified information regarding Albegas and the new Voltron, and had sold it to the Drule Supreme Council for a large profit.

The High Command, under the temporary leadership of Commander Byron Loehmann and Colonel Jeremy Dillin, brought charges against Hingham and Wegener. The Space Marshall was tried, convicted, and sentenced to confinement within the Galactic Prison, but was later moved to the Void due to his noncompliant behavior. Meanwhile, the Admiral was tried and convicted in absentia, since he had mysteriously disappeared before his trial had even occurred.

No one ever learned that, ironically, a very prominent member of the Drule Supreme Council had killed him. The leader of the Ninth Planet, or Korrinoth, better known by its nickname, _Doom_. King Zarkon Daibazaal had been the one to perform the unsavory deed... _personally_.

With both Wegener and Hingham gone, and the name of _Charles_ tainted in that period of Galaxy Alliance history, the High Command decided to recruit a new Space Marshall. Sifting through the classified files of men whom Hingham had once thought were possible contenders to succeed him, the interim leaders of the Garrison came to an agreement. They unanimously elected Commodore Matthias Dylan Graham to the highest rank.

The first thing Graham did as Space Marshall was appoint his own second-in-command. Though the second-highest position had previously been an elected one, the Garrison's newest top-ranked shunned the idea of a vote, instead promoting his trusted comrade, Commander Robert Steele. While he knew that the move would cause friction and possibly create enemies, he had good reason for it: the rumor mill had it that Colonel James Cross was a shoe-in to take over Wegener's old position.

Colonel Cross and his former Space Academy roommate, Colonel Charles Herbert Wade, _loved_ outer space. They were both enamoured of their positions and would not have returned to Earth if the proverbial loaded pistol had been held to their heads. Because of this, Graham could not, in good conscience, allow Cross to be elected as his second-in-command. He felt that it was the only reasonable thing to do.

With Graham and Steele in charge of Galaxy Garrison—and, therefore, of the Alliance—things began to settle in...and down. Cross and Wade remained on their respective ships in the Near Universe. The S.S. Explorer, under the command of the Space Marshall's longtime friend, Commander William Moriarty, charted the stars and planets in the galaxy to create an updated, accurate map of the solar system. Planet Terra had recovered from its loss of Albegas and had implemented a new type of security system to ward off any future attacks. Earth's Voltron was under construction, and the planet's defenses seemed to be enough for the time being.

Then, in the Far Universe, Korrinoth raided Planet Arus.

Though Arus was not, as it stood, a part of the Galaxy Alliance—nor was it even in the Garrison's part of the universe—Graham decided to chance providing aid to the planet. He brought up the subject at the next High Command meeting without giving Commander Steele any advance notice. Unsurprisingly, the council members reacted negatively and shot down the Space Marshall's request.

"But why not?" Graham had argued. "We're in the midst of creating a Vehicle Voltron to protect Earth. We've taken AlBeGas from Terra and reengineered the Voltron prototype to suit our needs. Why not send an exploratory team to Arus and see if they can find out what happened to Lion Voltron? And if they can help the planet defeat Doom and restore it to its rightful place in the process, well, so much the better."

"Lion Voltron is merely a legend," Loehmann had pointed out, irritated.

"Enough so that we built _two_ giant war machines in its image." Faces turned to Steele, who had stood up to defend his superior. "I agree with Graham. We _should_ send a small exploratory mission to Arus."

Had the High Command unanimously concurred at that point, a different team of space explorers might have been chosen for the assignment. As it stood, it took more than a year for all of the council members to agree to the operation, and even then, it took more time to cut through the bureaucracy and red tape and drum up the funds to support the mission. By the time the dust had settled, that year's most-senior class was less than two months out from graduation.

Wanting to choose their sharpest, most up-to-date and most capable cadets, Graham commissioned his most trusted lieutenants, Don Brown and Jason Stebbins, to decide upon the team of five. The two young men eagerly tackled the task, sorting through every last student in the graduating student body, doing research and interviews, reviewing grades and extracurriculars and backgrounds. They selected their five candidates and presented them to High Command, where four out of five members were approved.

The fifth candidate was approved by everyone but the Space Marshall himself.

Several years prior, Graham had seen limitless potential in one cadet. He was not the only one; Stebbins and Brown had seen it, too. He couldn't blame them for choosing this one particular candidate, but he had to veto their decision, appointing their back-up choice in lieu of their first choice.

He wanted their fifth candidate for his own roster.

Though the two lieutenants were somewhat miffed and appalled, arguing that their back-up candidate was not _quite_ as good of a fit for the mission, their decision was overruled. Graham got his way and finalized the decision one month before graduation.

And then, the day after graduation, he sent the exploratory team to Arus.

Over the course of summer vacation, Vehicle Voltron was completed. The S.S. Explorer headed back to Earth, ready to house the new defender of the universe and then continue on its mission of creating a new starmap of the solar system. One problem stood in the way: this new Voltron Force would require a team of fifteen pilots...pilots who needed to be chosen quickly.

Summoning Brown and Stebbins to task once more, they began the lengthy and arduous task of sifting through thousands of candidates for the fifteen slots on the Voltron Vehicle Force, blissfully unaware that the five members of their exploratory mission to Arus were fighting for their very lives to escape the slave dungeons of Castle Doom...

* * *

Space Marshall Graham's three lieutenants sat in the otherwise-empty strategy room, making the last-minute finalizations for the pilots of the Voltron Vehicle Force. Lieutenant Don Brown nervously slicked his blond hair back with his hand. This was the second time that he and Lieutenant Jason Stebbins had done this sort of thing, but the last time, it was on a smaller scale. When they had chosen the team sent to Arus, it had only been five cadets. Now it was fifteen.

He looked over at the third lieutenant in their midst.

She was twenty-one years old and a new graduate from the Space Academy, younger than Brown and Stebbins had been when they were offered the position of Lieutenant. All three of them had heard some of the unpleasant innuendo-laced rumors as to why Graham had drafted a female so young to such a high rank, but to her credit, everyone who worked with her chose to ignore them. Once they had gotten to know her, they realized that she'd earned the position on merit alone.

The only thing that Stebbins and Brown couldn't ignore was the irony that this new lieutenant was helping them to choose this team. Not only had she personally—and _fairly_ , they might add—sorted through hundreds of possible candidates with them, including many of her friends and former classmates, but it hadn't been so long since they were making a decision about her and the exploration team sent to Planet Arus.

"So three teams," Brown repeated, impatiently tapping his fingers on the tabletop. "Land, Sea, and Air. Each team is made up of five members, and each team has a captain. The captain of the Air Team is the overall captain of the Voltron Force."

"Sea Team roster: status complete," she began. "Consists of Captain Crik Miranda Keats. Also comprised of Tangor Katz, Shannon Izumo, Zandee Karateya, and Lisa Kaga." Her lips curled up slightly, pleased, as she rattled off Lisa's name.

"Land Team roster: status complete," Stebbins continued. "Consists of Captain Clifford Walter Jack. Also comprised of Modoch Chukker, Cinda Kirigas, Hutch Nagato, and Marvin Izu." The dark-haired, fair-skinned lieutenant had absolutely no association with the members of the team; though he'd met all of the candidates in person, the names were just words on a sheet of paper.

"Air Team roster: status _still_ incomplete," Brown sighed. "Currently comprised of Chip Stoker, Wolo Kreuz, Rocky Shinobu, and Ginger Ellington. Captain status still undecided."

The youngest lieutenant exhaled in frustration. "Brown, how much longer are we going to punt back and forth between the two choices? There are good reasons for either one of them to be captain of the Air Team. At the rate we're going, we may as well just flip a coin."

Stebbins chuckled. "She's right, you know."

Brown looked flustered. "Run through the data again," he instructed his fellow lieutenants. Opening his manila folder, he produced two photos, headshots which the three of them knew all too well by now. One was of Jeffrey Aki. The other was of Aidan Dalloway.

"Both Aki and Dalloway have identical grades," Stebbins began. "They both specialized in piloting at the Academy, both graduated in the top tier of gunners, and both are specially trained in hand-to-hand combat. It's a tough call, Brown. On paper, it's almost like they're the same person." He shrugged. "Anyway, you know what I think. I vote for Dalloway. He and Clifford Jack were roommates and best friends at the Academy. Dalloway will fit right in."

Brown shook his head. "I think I've finally decided that my vote goes to Aki. In person at least, the guy sounds a little more... _sensible_. Dalloway was reprimanded a few too many times during his five years at the Academy." He looked over at their third lieutenant. "And what do _you_ think? Who gets your vote?"

Stebbins grinned. "Ooh, you get to be the tiebreaker. Lucky you."

Exhaling again, she picked up both photos and held one in each hand. She knew both of the candidates personally, so much better than her fellow lieutenants did. "They are both overly qualified for the position," she murmured after a long silence. "But my vote has to go to Aki. Even though he has more of a temper, Dalloway isn't mature enough to handle the role of captain. Not now, at least."

Brown nodded, satisfied with the decision. "Then it's settled. Air Team status: complete with Captain Jeffrey Manabu Aki." He slid Jeff's photo back into the manila envelope. "Good job. I'll bring this to Space Marshall Graham and tell him and Commander Steele that we have a Voltron Force."

She picked up the discarded photo. "I'm sorry, Aidan," she whispered to it. "I am so, _so_ sorry. Don't hate me. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

As the three lieutenants stood to take their leave, Brown cleared his throat. "Hey," he shot out, "how do you guys feel about getting pizza and beer after I drop off this envelope? It's been a long few weeks, and we should make good on the chance to celebrate."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Stebbins agreed. He looked over at the newest member of their trio. "What about you, Stensson? Are you in?"

She shook her head. "Thanks, guys. I appreciate the offer, but I'm really exhausted. I think I'm just gonna go home and go to bed."

"Sure thing. See you tomorrow, then." Brown darted down the hallway to the Space Marshall's office, but Stebbins stayed put, looking back at Stensson.

"Hey, do you want an escort? I hate to send you home alone at this late of an hour." He brushed a stray hair off her forehead in a brotherly way. "You'll make us worry."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. Good night, Jason."

On the street, she grabbed the first available hovercab to take her to the Valley, the Garrison's nickname for the cheap just-off-campus housing allotted for the Space Academy's graduated students. Then, once she was home, she collapsed onto the full-sized bed in her studio apartment, where she closed her eyes against the anguish of having to choose Jeff Aki over Aidan Dalloway.

Not that it was any different from any other night. The young lieutenant had lived her life in a constant state of anguish since the day after she graduated from the Academy, from the exact moment that her fiancé walked out of her life. It was only at night that she found solace, dreaming of him. Because that was the only place where they were together: in her dreams.

She couldn't wait until the day he finally came home.


	2. Diamonds in the Sky

_Author's Note_ _: You know I had to get the rest of my characters in here somehow. ;-)_

 _I'm going to attempt to update this story once a month. It's been difficult with a new baby (born 9/17/16), a full-time career, a dad who's had a heart transplant, multiple pieces of original fiction in the works, and a freezer with no Cîroc in it. (BOO!) But I'm going to try._

 ** _Title Song: "Diamonds (in the Sky)" by Rihanna_**

* * *

Jonathan James Hawkins drew a deep breath in the elevator. It felt good to be back on solid ground—and in real gravity—again. He'd been on the Stellar Ship Explorer for sixteen months straight, and it was nice to have a break for a change. As the elevator in the historic building on Fifth Avenue chugged upward towards the twelfth floor, he thought about his last handshake with Commander Moriarty.

 _"Sir, I'd like to let you know that it has been a pleasure working with you. I wish you well in your retirement."_

 _Moriarty laughed, both pleased and amused. "Jon, you are an extremely bright young man. I wish you nothing but success in all of your endeavors. I leave this ship knowing that it's in good hands..._ _Commander_ _Hawkins."_

The elevator came to a stop, and as Jon stepped out, he stood in front of the grand main entrance, replete with its mahogany scrollwork and intricate detailing. Even though he was thirty-one years old, he still felt like the four-year-old child he had been when he first came to live with his uncle. The loss of his parents had been the price he paid for his upbringing in luxury, and he never, _ever_ forgot that. He pulled the lone key out from his pocket and unlocked the door.

He never knew what to expect when he entered the triplex. His uncle was a rather eccentric man, and even more so now at the age of fifty-eight, so Jon never knew whether or not he would find him in the throes of passion with yet another anonymous woman. And if it wasn't that—and it wouldn't be; his uncle had been seeing the artist Annabelle Lee exclusively for almost two years, which was like some sort of world record—then he would be in the throes of passion with a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. Either way, the man lived his life passionately.

He quietly closed the door behind him. "Hello?" he called out.

There was no response, so he moved to the intercom system. "Hello? Uncle Jacob? Are you in here somewhere?"

The intercom beeped. _"My boy!_ I'm on the terrace. Come on up."

Jon smiled to himself as he climbed his way up the two sets of stairs to the top floor of the triplex. The terrace could only be accessed through the master bedroom, though the term _master living quarters_ might have been more applicable. As he sauntered through the seating area on the third floor, drinking in the settings and savoring the feel of being home, he pushed open the terrace door to join his uncle.

Jacob Christopher Hawkins sat in the midst of his own personal garden, one which overlooked New York City's Central Park. His appearance—the full head of mostly-dark hair, the chiseled jawline, the fit physique—belied his age. If he looked even half as good at his uncle's age, Jon would consider himself lucky. "Uncle Jacob, have you got Annabelle or Mr. Walker keeping you company over there?"

"Mr. Walker." Jacob never saw the point in lying to his nephew; Jon was far too intelligent for that. "Sit down, Boy. Come join us."

Jon laughed as he sat down on the terrace. "I'm hardly a boy anymore, you know. When you're in your thirties and you get promoted to commander of a stellar ship— _your_ stellar ship, I might add—I think you sort of lose the title of _Boy_."

"Indeed. I'm very proud that my own nephew will be at the helm of the greatest ship my company has ever built." Jacob then seemed to reconsider the statement, amused. "But you're still _my_ boy, and there's nothing you can do or say that will make me feel otherwise. I'm not even convinced by your uniform." He refilled his lead crystal tumbler with a more-than-generous serving of the high-end scotch. "Did you happen to grab yourself a glass while you were in the house?"

Jon shook his head. "I did not." Then, with a mischievous grin spreading over his face, he added, "Because Rich and I were thinking about going out tonight before we take charge of the Explorer. One last hurrah, as he so eloquently put it."

Jacob burst into laughter. "Richard Newley. I always said that that boy was the best friend you'll ever have, Jon. He knows better than you do that the new women you'll meet on the Explorer will all be too young for you." His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Unless you plan on settling down with a woman who's ten years or so younger than you are...?"

Jon grimaced. "I don't think so. A woman that age would be _far_ too young and immature for me." He shrugged. "Besides, I don't see myself ever settling down with one woman."

"Hmph. Never say never. I thought the same thing myself when I was your age, and now look at me—Annabelle's got me by the _cojones_." Jacob laughed to himself before changing the subject. "Now, where do you boys plan on going tonight? I'll get you in wherever you like...name a spot and I'll take care of it."

Of course. He should have known that his uncle would want a hand in their last night out. One did not accumulate as much influence and wealth as Jacob Hawkins possessed without choosing to exploit either. "Um...I think Rich had something else in mind besides dinner."

"Say no more." Jacob looked pleased. "Tell me, should you pick up a woman tonight, will you bring her back here?"

Jon felt himself turning crimson. _"No!_ Of course not. I would _never_ do that."

"Ah. At her place, then. That way, you can make a fuss-free escape the following morning, easily defying any romantic expectations." He nodded in agreement. "My boy, I'm proud of you. I have taught you well."

The future commander buried his face in his hands. Then he decided that he shouldn't be embarrassed. He should enjoy the night. Because once morning set in, he and Rich would be promoted to Commander and Captain of the Stellar Ship Explorer, making them privy to an entire new world of responsibilities.

Better to enjoy one last night of freedom while they still could.

* * *

Cole lifted up his bottle of Guinness Extra Stout to toast his old classmates. "Here's to all you losers," he cheered. "Well, except for you, Gatehouse. _You're_ not going on the Explorer with 'em."

"Shut up, Harmonn," Jamie retorted, clinking his own bottle against Modoch's.

They had all been friends since their first year at the Space Academy—Modoch Chukker, Wolo Kreuz, Shannon Izumo, Jamie Gatehouse, David Rackens, and Cole Harmonn—but now their tight-knit group was about to be split apart. Modoch, Wolo, and Shannon had been chosen to serve on the S.S. Explorer as part of the elite Voltron Vehicle Force. In addition, Cole was defecting from the Garrison entirely and had accepted a job with NASA. In less than one week, he would be leaving New York for Houston, Texas. It would be only David and Jamie holding down the fort in Manhattan.

"It's not like I'm going with them, either," David quietly threw into the conversation, the tone of his British-accented voice glum. His friends knew that Anastasia, his girlfriend of seven years, had recently dumped him, and he was hugely bummed about it. She'd had the same hang-up that most girls had—she was getting tired of waiting for her boyfriend to produce an engagement ring, so she got rid of him. "And God knows I wish I was."

"Dude. You are _so_ much better off without her," Cole reminded him. "And I never liked your ex, anyway. She was a real bi-"

"Be nice, Harmonn," Wolo cut him off in a reprimand.

"He's right, you know." David sighed, then lifted his own bottle of Guinness to his lips. "Though I hate to say it, it's kind of a relief. With Stacey gone, I can focus on myself and getting through grad school, _not_ worrying about what I have to do to keep her happy and risk flunking out."

"Amen to that," Shannon cheered, a slight edge of drunkenness in his Irish-accented voice. "Women! Who needs 'em? I mean, they're too sensitive and emotional, anyway." He made a face.

"Hey, _I_ happen to like them," Jamie countered. "I just don't meet many of 'em at my job." He took a swig of his own beer. The pale blond had been David's shooting partner at the Academy, but unlike David, he wasn't doing anything to further his education, so he was stuck in a rut at his security position with the Garrison. "Come on, Rackens. Why don't you tell the guys about some of the chicks in your grad classes? Like the one who wants to teach navigation?"

Wolo made a face. "Ugh. Who'd want to teach navigation?"

"Yeah, and don't girls suck at math?" Cole egged him on obnoxiously.

David rolled his eyes. "Trust me, Harmonn—if you met her, you'd know that _this_ girl can run circles around all of us in math. And she's quite possibly the most amazing navigator in the Garrison. Seven hells."

Modoch cracked up. "God, I wish you were going with us, Rackens. I mean, who's gonna say _seven hells_ on the Explorer?" He finished his beer and reached for another bottle. "Nobody, that's who."

"So we'll just have to say it for him, then," Shannon chimed in. _"Seven hells."_ He laughed as he listened to his own voice as he said the words. "It doesn't sound as good with an Irish brogue as it does with a British accent, though."

"No, it doesn't," Modoch agreed. "We've been telling you that for _years_."

Wolo placed his almost-full beer bottle down next to him. "Mo, where's your girlfriend tonight?" he asked, changing the subject. "You'd think you'd be spending your last night before taking post on the Explorer with _her_ , not with us."

Modoch shrugged. "Hey, Kelly's got friends going on the Explorer, too," he answered. Then, with a grin, he swallowed another mouthful of dark beer. "Besides, I've asked her to move in with me. That way, I'll always have a place to come home to when the Explorer docks. Oh, and she'll be in my bed every night."

Cole, the self-proclaimed "king of the hook-ups," looked ill at his friend's statement. "Ugh. I don't understand why you'd want to settle down with one woman, Mo. You bloody wanker." He pilfered his Academy roommate's British vocabulary yet again. "I've been telling Rackens the same thing since the day he hooked up with his ex."

Shannon jumped to Modoch's defense. "Don't you ever say _bloody wanker_ again, Harmonn. It's like saying _seven hells_ —it doesn't sound right coming from any one of us without the British accent."

David buried his face in his hands. "I'm so glad I've provided the bloody lot of you with years and _years_ of free entertainment."

Jamie snorted. "Heh heh. You said _bloody lot_."

* * *

Sullivan's Bar, according to Taye Benton, had the best buffalo wings on the lower East Side. Which was why he chose that spot to celebrate his friends' placements on the S.S. Explorer. Hutch Nagato, Marvin Izu, and Crik Keats were effectively leaving him behind come tomorrow.

Not that he was upset. Though he felt insulted by the fact that he had been overlooked for a position, he was thrilled for his friends. And the way he figured, there would be three fewer guys fighting for the attention of any girls who happened to come around.

"You have an obsession with buffalo wings, my friend," Crik informed him as he passed up the spicy chicken in favor of the accompanying celery and bleu cheese dressing. The soon-to-be captain of the Sea Team was a vegetarian. And not only that, he was the most new-age and "granola-y"—as Hutch would say—out of the lot of them; he practiced yoga, he swam obsessively, he didn't drink much, and he got weird premonitions that would almost always come true. "But at least the bleu cheese is good here."

"Man, I can't believe it's your last night in New York and you _still_ won't touch the wings," Hutch whined as he ripped the chicken off the bone with his teeth. "You won't find wings half this good anywhere else in the galaxy, I guarantee it."

"Yeah, this is so sad. It's such a waste that you still won't eat 'em, Crik," Marvin chimed in.

"Hey, guys, leave the Miran alone," Taye jumped to his former roommate's defense. "I haven't seen him eat any meat in the six years I've known him. What, did you think he was gonna start _now_?"

With his mouth full of spicy chicken, Hutch replied, "Actually, _yeah_."

The two Academy roommates glanced over at each other skeptically. They'd known each other for a long time, and they could practically read each other's minds at this point. "Don't take it personally, Keats," Taye told him. "You already have confirmation that these two are idiots."

The Miran burst out laughing. "Fair enough, my friend. Fair enough."

* * *

"I can't believe you knew I was leaving, and you didn't stock your liquor cabinet with Bombay Sapphire!" Ginger Ellington screeched to Aidan Dalloway after she knocked back her off-label shot. "This stuff is _terrible_!"

"Dude, Blondie," Aidan retorted, his brilliant blue eyes twinkling as he teased her, "you're lucky I've got gin at all. I freakin' _hate_ gin."

"Oh, quiet, you two." Lisa Kaga sat down on the couch next to her Academy roommate and across from the guy she still considered to be the best-looking guy from their floor at the dorm. Then she took a sip from the glass of chardonnay in her hand. "Nobody cares."

"Hey, Roommate, _I_ care," Ginger whined.

Since such a large part of their family was leaving, Aidan had decided to host a going-away party at his new one-bedroom apartment in Manhattan's Meatpacking District. He'd invited everyone who was left—Ginger and Lisa, Jeff Aki, Cinda Kirigas, Morgan Feld, Kelly Asimov, Chip Stoker, Rocky Shinobu, and his best Mate, Clifford Jack—to give the new members of the Voltron Vehicle Force a proper send-off...as well as show off pictures of his graduation present, a trip to Italy.

Of course, he'd also invited Lenora, but she was too busy with her new job to make it.

They missed the rest of their family. Keith Kogane, Lance McClain, Hunk Garrett, Pidge Stoker, and Sven Holgersson had already been deployed. They'd left for Planet Arus three months ago—the day after graduating from the Space Academy, to be exact. It had been a sobering moment for all of them as they watched their friends board that tiny, slow space shuttle.

They were done. They had graduated. And they were now beginning their careers as space explorers. It was too bad that out of the fourteen of them on their floor at the Academy—the fourteen of them that they considered to be a family—four of them were _still_ not going into outer space.

Maybe it was just as well. There were plenty of good reasons for Aidan, Morgan, Kelly and Lenora to stay grounded for now. They just couldn't think of any at the moment.

"Hey Mate," Cliff called out, holding up his empty tumbler, "I need a refill. Where's your bottle of Black Label?"

Cliff's closest female friend, Kelly, picked up the bottle of Johnnie Walker. "Here you go," she announced, pouring the glass full, stopping just below the brim. "Hey Cindy! You want any?"

The blue-skinned Miran girl shook her head. "No alcohol for me, thank you."

Kelly nodded, then poured herself an overly-full tumbler. "Well, _I_ sure as heck need a glass...or five," she grumbled. "I feel like I'm being punished—my two best friends _and_ my boyfriend are taking off on the Explorer. What am I gonna do by myself on Earth?"

"You _won't_ be by yourself, silly," Morgan chided her. She'd had her arm wrapped around Jeff, her best friend and _Amigo_ , all night. "I'm still gonna be here. And so are Aidan and Len. Remember?"

"Yeah, I know." She closed her eyes. "But that doesn't make it any easier. Ask Len what it's like to lose your loved one to a mission in outer space."

Morgan gulped, and a pained expression briefly washed over her face. She had loved Keith for all five years they were at the Academy—despite their rocky on-and-off romance—and it hurt her that he had left for Arus and moved beyond their relationship like she'd meant nothing to him at all. "Yeah. I'd have to ask Len. I wouldn't know what that's like." She buried her face in Jeff's shoulder.

Kelly knocked back a long swallow of her drink, then placed her hand on the navigator's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Morgan. I shouldn't have said that. I wasn't thinking."

As she tried to make amends, Aidan placed both of his hands square on Kelly's waist. For a moment, the Bajan blushed. "Girl," he informed her, whispering in her ear, "it's the four of us now. You, me, Morgan and Len. Let's not have the rest of our crew show us up just 'cuz we weren't chosen for Arus _or_ the Explorer. We have to stick together."

He was right, and Kelly knew it. She swallowed another mouthful of her Johnnie Walker. She might not have her boyfriend or her two best friends, but she would have the three remaining members of her family with her. She'd just have to suck it up and deal with it as best she could.

* * *

"I love your uncle."

Rich and Jon had a prime spot at Cipriani, courtesy of Jacob. Jon's uncle knew the owner and had therefore secured them entry—as well as two of the best seats in the house—for their big night out. As they approached the bar, they noticed two tumblers full of Courvoisier waiting for them.

"I love him, too," Jon agreed, tipping back the cognac. "He's really something else."

"Amen to that." Rich knocked back the contents of his own tumbler as well. "Hmm. I'm not the biggest fan of cognac, but it seems appropriate for tonight, doesn't it?"

"It does." The soon-to-be commander ordered another round, at ease in his designer jeans, button-down sport shirt and black leather shoes. "We're not kids anymore, Rich. We shouldn't drink like kids." He graciously accepted the next round as the bartender placed the two drinks in front of them. "Cheers to us."

"Oh, man, this is going to cost a fortune." Rich sipped at his second tumbler as he made a cursory glance through the menu. "Do you think your uncle is picking up the tab, too? Because I don't think I've ever seen a steak this expensive."

Jon clapped his friend on the back. "I see you've never been to Per Se."

The bartender appeared in front of them. "Welcome. My name is Brendan, and I've been instructed to take care you both this evening," he informed them, sliding a dirty martini in front of each one of them. "Whatever you need, whatever you want, just call for me and I'll take care of it."

Rich eyed the drink. "What kind of alcohol did you put in there?"

"Vodka, Sir. Cîroc vodka."

The new captain raised his eyebrows. "I'm seriously considering marrying your uncle, Hawkins. If he picks up the tab for dinner tonight _and_ finds us women...well, let's just say you'll be calling me _Uncle_ _Rich_ from now on."

Jon slugged back most of his dirty martini in one swallow. "That's not even funny, Newley. You're making me ill."

"Bite me." Placing the menu down on the bar, Rich flagged the bartender over. He ordered the best steak in the house, cooked medium-rare, and instructed for the martinis and the Courvoisier to keep flowing. Jon rolled his eyes but said nothing—he knew that his extraordinarily wealthy uncle wouldn't even blink at the exorbitant tab they were bound to ring up.

As he sipped at the remainder of his drink, his eyes wandered to the crowd. Jon loved to look at people—and, more importantly, he _loved_ women. He had no desire to find a girlfriend or settle down, and much like his uncle in his younger days, he was never one to shy away from a casual fling or a one-night stand.

He'd long ago decided that he liked brunettes the best. There was something about a woman with long, luscious brown locks—mahogany, chestnut, sable—that he was attracted to. Sure, he liked blonds and redheads too, but there was something about brunettes that he was irresistibly drawn to. He scanned the room to see if he could find one who seemed unattached and caught his eye. If she had a friend with her, so much the better.

"Jon, what are you looking at?" Rich swirled around on his barstool and followed his friend's gaze. Both pairs of eyes landed on a table with four girls, each one clad in a strapless black dress and ridiculously high heels. One blond, three brunettes. "Never mind. _Score!"_

The new commander kept his eyes locked on the women as he swallowed the last of his martini. "Yes, that's _exactly_ what I intend to do."

Brendan returned with two new martinis and two new tumblers of cognac. Grabbing his drinks, Jon left his spot at the bar and made his way through the crowd to the table in question. Positioning himself between the two better-looking brunettes, he glanced down and introduced himself, adding, "Could I buy you all a round?"

Rich smirked into his martini glass. Yes, his friend had just ensured that they would both leave Cipriani with a woman tonight. And he couldn't think of a better last hurrah.

He just hoped he could have the blond.

* * *

They had to be careful whenever they took a break. If Commander Steele or any member of the High Command ever caught them on the roof, all three of them would probably be fired. Not because of what they were doing—they were simply looking up at the stars—but because _nobody_ was supposed to be on the roof.

But they couldn't help it. Their illicit perch on the domed roof of the Garrison HQ offered the best view of Garrison Island, New York City across the bay, _and_ the night sky. Besides, they were what they called the "middle men," the lowest-ranked of the upper crust. They were never really necessary among the members High Command. They were just _there_.

"You know," Stensson observed, "if you look hard enough, the stars almost look like diamonds. Diamonds in the sky." From her position on her back, she rolled her head over her right shoulder to look at Brown. "What do you think?"

Brown was also on on his back, staring up at the night sky. "I wouldn't object to that. They _do_ look pretty."

"You sound like a girl," Stebbins snorted.

"Shut up," the other two lieutenants shot out at him.

"Geez. Tell it like it is, and they gang up on you."

The three of them continued to lay on their backs and stare up at the shining stars in silence. Stebbins looked over his shoulder at Stensson. He couldn't help it; he had a soft spot for the girl. Even though he was married and not looking at her in a romantic light, he was a big softie for tough-luck cases, and hers was pretty darn tough. "Can you read anything in the stars?" he asked her, the tone in his voice softening. "Constellations? Flight paths? Anything?"

Without looking over at him, Stensson shook her head. "No. I'm not a navigator."

"Oh. Well, I just thought..."

She closed her eyes. "I learned very little about the stars during my stint at the Academy, despite the people I hung around with. Gods, you have no idea how much I wish I had." She opened her eyes again, searching out the sky for the one planet that she _knew_ was out there but couldn't find—the planet her fiancé had headed for. She wasn't even sure if it was close enough to see with a telescope, that was how little she knew about the skies.

The three lieutenants laid there, unmoving. The silence was all around them as the diamonds in the sky glittered brightly overhead.

* * *

He cleared his throat, freeing it from the dirt he'd swallowed when they crashed. _I think we made it...but did we? Are the Drules still on our tails?_ Squinting in the sun, he shaded his eyes to look for his remaining four crew members. Well, they were more important than crew members. They were _family._

"All right, team. Sound off. I need to make sure you're all still alive."

Keith Akira Kogane often wondered, in the back of his mind, whether or not Space Marshall Graham had made the right call when he appointed him to the head of this exploration team. Sure, he had graduated first out of their class at the Space Academy, but still...was he _really_ fit to lead? He couldn't be. If he were, they wouldn't be in this mess right now.

A cough. "Still alive." Lance Charles McClain, their head pilot and gunner.

A grumble. "Eh, it's gonna take a lot more than _that_ to kill me off." Tsuyoshi "Hunk" Garrett, their mechanic and engineer.

A squeak. "Just dandy, Chief." Darrell "Pidge" Stoker, their systems analyst.

A snort. _"Ja, min venn."_ Sven Holgersson, their navigator and his second-in-command.

"Good." Still shading his eyes, Keith scanned the horizon. Their downed slave ship, which they'd used to escape from Korrinoth, was nothing more than burning wreckage. There was no way to make it off this planet without a ship. They would have to find another way out. "Sven, come here, please."

Dusting himself off, the Norwegian joined his captain. "What is it?" he asked quietly, his slate-blue eyes reading more into the request than Keith would have liked. "What do you want to tell me that you don't want the others to hear?"

"How do you know these things?"

Sven smirked. "I just _do_."

"Apparently." Keith lowered his voice. "Sven, I need you to do me a favor. We are in deep over our heads on this mission, and I...I need you to keep an eye on Lance."

The Norwegian looked amused. "You want me to baby-sit?"

The captain sighed. _"No._ But you know Lance—he has a tendency to get riled up, and when he does, he gets everyone else riled up in the process. The last thing I need right now is for anybody to lose his cool. I've got Hunk and Pidge covered if you can take care of your old roommate."

The navigator tilted his head to the side.

"Come on, Sven. I need you to do this for me. No one here knows Lance better than you do. I just need you to keep a lid on his impulsiveness, at least while we're trying to figure things out. Can you do that?"

"Of course."

"Thank you." Keith looked at the horizon again. "Now, I _know_ we saw something that looked like a castle when we were crashing. I think that's the best place to start. So come on, grab a weapon and let's get on our way."

The area where they had crash-landed was littered with remnants from the war. Keith didn't know why, but he decided not to question their luck. The team members each picked up something to defend themselves with from off the ground, and they followed their captain in what he hoped was the direction of that castle.

And if it wasn't, then they were all as good as dead.


	3. September

_Author's Note_ _: Okay, so for everybody who's looking for our favorite five on Arus, that's for next chapter. But don't skip this one! There's some good stuff in here. And I promise, NEXT time around is chock-full of Keith, Lance, Pidge, Hunk, and Sven._

 _Thanks to everyone for the well-wishes for dad and the congratulations on the baby. She's keeping me on my toes!_

 _To Guest (aka WarzonePrez): Keith's not getting a haircut in_ _this_ _story. The mullet survives! But yes, I'm glad that you're working on fleshing out the backstory as to why LV is lions as opposed to, say, giraffes. Let me know when you figure it out. As for the Cîroc, man, I have to get on that. Thanks a lot for driving me to the point of necessitation. Now YOU get on your updates._

 _To Emie Mac: My doll! Yes, it was Jeff vs. Aidan, and your man won out. (Of course he did.) Let's see how he does as leader of VV. I'm going to have LOTS of Jeff for you._

 _To Kava: I'm so glad you like this story. I aim to please! And yes, I_ _do_ _own the 30th anniversary book. Maybe one of these days I'll come up with something. You never know what Muse will come up with…_

 _To Susan: My dad is doing great! His doctors have actually called him the poster boy for organ transplants. As for the ages of the Voltron Teams, I have Chip and Pidge as the youngest at 17. Keith/Lance/Sven/Hunk, Jeff/Cliff/Cinda/Lisa/Ginger/Rocky, and Aidan/Kelly/Morgan/Lenora are 21. I have Modoch/Wolo/Shannon and Jamie/Cole/David at 23, and I have Taye and Hutch/Marvin/Crik at 22. Commander Hawkins and Captain Newley are clocking in at 31, while Zandee and Tangor, I put at 23 and 22 respectively. And in case you're interested, I've put Princess Allura's age at 18._

 _To ForeverWells: Lovey! I'm so glad you like this story. Yes, your main man will definitely be a main character (and just you WAIT until he gets an eyeful of Allura in the next couple of chapters). As for him with his ex, I think you hit the nail on the head, they definitely grew apart and were trying way too hard at the Academy. As for Lenora, well, she's firmly engaged to her Academy boyfriend Sven...for now, anyways._

 ** _Title Song: "September" by Daughtry_**

* * *

 _Melissa? Melinda? Melanie? What did she say her name was again? Oh well, I guess it doesn't matter now._

Jon looked over the sleeping woman as he dressed himself. True to his promise, he'd left Cipriani with the most beautiful brunette at the table. He grinned to himself as he arrogantly recalled his performance in her bed. _I rocked her world. Too bad we'll never see each other again._

Once fully dressed, he stealthily slid out her apartment door, twisting the lock before exiting. Yes, he'd made her think that he was asleep. But that was the thing about him: Jon Hawkins hardly ever slept. He hadn't slept more than an hour or two at a time since his parents died. And once his hook-up had lowered her guard and submitted to slumber, he made his escape...much the same way he always did.

The early September morning was dark and surprisingly chilly, and Jon hailed a cab to take him back to Fifth Avenue. He could have called Carlo, his uncle's personal driver, but he knew that doing so would cause a scene. He simply wanted to return to the triplex quietly, without any fuss or fanfare.

When the cab dumped him out in front of the building, he shivered. Thinking back on it now, he probably should have spent the night with his uncle, shooting the breeze and drinking expensive alcohol that only Jacob Hawkins would have in his liquor cabinet. But he hadn't. He'd spent the night indulging in food and drink, not to mention women. Even before he'd gone home with…whatever her name was...he'd captured the attention of every female at that table. _Rich, you're going home with my sloppy seconds,_ he'd joked—out of earshot, obviously.

The elevator brought him up to the twelfth floor, and he pulled the key out of his pocket. Surprisingly, the main door was unlocked, and when he walked in, the aroma of pancakes smacked him in the face.

"Good morning, Jon. Are you hungry?" Annabelle asked, flashing him a sweet smile.

Jon adored his uncle's girlfriend. She was in her late forties, but she looked at least a decade younger. After divorcing her husband, who was older by twenty-six years and left her with nothing, not even her own children, she looked after Jacob and Jon like they were her family. Which they were—even though they'd only been exclusive for two years, she and Jacob had known each other for better than five.

"Good morning, Annabelle." Jon placed a quick kiss on her cheek in greeting. "I'm not hungry right now, but I think it might just be nerves. It's not every day that I get promoted to commander of a stellar ship, after all."

" _My_ stellar ship." Jacob's boasting voice cut in as he, too, placed a kiss on Annabelle's cheek. Looking at his girlfriend, he continued, "Did you know that it was _my_ steel manufacturing plant that built the Explorer? It was ten years in the making."

"Wow." She seemed impressed. "Ten years? That's a long time."

"It's an incredible ship," Jacob replied. Then, with a glance at his nephew, he changed the subject. "Did they take care of you and Rich last night at Cipriani's?"

"Of course." Jon looked smug as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Jacob didn't even blink. "And you're just coming back now from a woman's place, no?"

"JACOB CHRISTOPHER!" Annabelle swatted at her boyfriend with the buttery spatula. "There is absolutely no need for you to be so crude in front of your nephew. No pancakes for you this morning!"

"Hmm." Coming up behind her and planting his hands on her waist, Jacob drew her against him and kissed the side of her neck. "So, my dear, what exactly do you mean by _pancakes_?"

He couldn't help himself. Jon began to laugh hysterically, throwing back his head in amusement at the double entendre in his uncle's words. _The original player in the Hawkins family, indeed._

He was going to miss his uncle terribly. It was too bad that he hadn't realized until just this moment how much so.

* * *

When his eyes cracked open, Jeff's arm automatically flung over to the side. Someone was in bed with him, he just didn't know who it was. Come to think of it, he wasn't quite sure where he was, either. _Blast it!_ he thought groggily, rubbing his eyes with his hands. _I did_ _way_ _too many shots with Morgan last night. Note to self: no more tequila._

He moved his arm again.

"Yo, Amigo! If you wanted to cop a cheap feel, you could at least give me a heads-up before aiming for my butt."

He smiled as his brain function returned. He'd gone back to her apartment last night. Not because he was trying to close the deal with her—they were _way_ past that point now—but because he'd wanted to spend the rest of the night with his best friend without any interruptions. "Morganza, if I wanna cop a cheap feel of your butt, I'll cop a cheap feel of your butt."

"Hmph," she snorted. _God, she sounds just like Sven. Is that snorting a navigator thing?_ "Is that what you used to say to _Chloe_? Is that why she _really_ broke up with you?"

"God. Now _there's_ a blast from the past." Chloe Sommers had been Jeff's only serious girlfriend throughout their time at the Space Academy; they had dated for eight months during their third year. He'd liked her a lot, enough to kick Keith out of their dorm room and close the deal with her on numerous occasions, but their relationship had ended as soon as she took DFNS 403 with Chad Nickerson. Jeff was apparently no match for the expertly suave Chad, and she'd found him much more appealing. "And in case you forgot, Feld, Chloe dumped me for Nickerson because she thought he'd be a _more_ _suitable_ _boyfriend_. Quote, unquote."

"Ew. _Gross."_ Morgan made a face. Her long black hair, shot with threads of aubergine and cerulean, was tangled and hanging in her face, covering her violet eyes. "Just so you know, Amigo, I never approved of Chloe, not even before she met Chad. She wasn't good enough for you."

"Ha." He stared up at the ceiling, an amused expression on his face. "Well then, Morgan Feld, answer me this question: in your esteemed opinion, which girl in our class _was_ good enough for me?"

She thought about it for a moment. Finally, she opened her mouth to answer. "Me."

 _"You?"_ He didn't know how obvious the expression of shock on his face was. "What do you mean, _you_?"

"I mean _me_. As in, I should have dated _you_ instead of your roommate." She blinked those long-lashed eyes at him. "Imagine how different things would have been, Jeff, if I'd dated you instead of Keith." Her face looked so sincere that he forgot to breathe. "Things would have been turned upside down. There could be a _J_ tattooed over my butt right now instead of a _K_."

"I worry about you, Morganza." Secretly, though, he was pleased; Jeff had always liked Morgan and had originally thought he might date her...at least until Keith entered the picture, anyway. "I think you might need professional help."

"Well, I'm starting grad courses so I can become an Academy instructor and teach navigation." She snorted again. "I _know_ I need professional help."

"Oh. Well, since you already know you need professional help...don't judge me for what I'm about to do."

It had been too many years and too many _what-if_ s. Jeff leaned over and planted a kiss on Morgan's lips, wondering if he'd been truly missing out, or if they were really better off as friends. She didn't seem surprised, and kissed back thoughtfully as though she was mulling it over herself.

He pulled away and stared into her eyes. For a moment, eternity loomed large between them as they contemplated the kiss. And then, simultaneously, they each shook their heads and cried out, _"Nope."_

Then they laughed, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm gonna miss you so much, Amigo. You be safe on the Explorer. You're in charge, so watch over everybody for me." She yawned in his face and released him, stretching her arms overhead. "And if you should happen to have a run-in with those kids on Arus, well, smack their captain's heinie for me."

"Morgan...I am not touching Keith's butt."

"Why not? You touched _mine_."

"Yeah, but that's different."

They laughed again, and Jeff planted a kiss on Morgan's forehead before getting out of bed. As he leaned over to pull his socks and shoes on, he reminded her, "Remember, you have to find Christiane and watch after her for me."

She frowned. "I told you I'd do it," she sneered, rolling out of bed. "So what if she's my ex-boyfriend's little sister who I've never met once in my entire life? I can look out for her." She shrugged as she pulled on a pair of thick socks. "After all, it's not _her_ fault that her brother is emotionally dead."

He sighed. It made no sense to defend Keith and get Morgan all riled up now. "No, it isn't."

"Hey, as long as we're both in agreement." Pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, she threw a grey Academy sweatshirt on over the black yoga pants and deep-purple tank top she'd slept in. "Come on, Amigo. Let's get you down to the hangar and off to destiny." She wrinkled her nose. "You know you've gotta leave this town."

Jeff felt dread in the pit of his stomach as he finished dressing, not because he was worried about what the future and the Explorer had in store for him, but because he couldn't fathom how he was going to go on without his best friend nearby. Once they were out in the hallway and she'd locked her apartment door behind them, he grabbed her hand, and they headed back to the Garrison to meet his fate head-on.

* * *

Modoch was filled with apprehension as he entered the hangar. One hand gripped the handle of his suitcase, the other gripped his girl for dear life.

Kelly, his Bajan girlfriend, was already distraught over the fact that her best friends, Cliff and Cinda, had been chosen for the Explorer. But her _boyfriend_ had been chosen too? Where was the fairness in anything? Why hadn't she been picked to go along with them? What was wrong with _her_?

The gentle giant dropped his suitcase and cupped his girl's face with both hands. Her large hazel eyes filled with tears which spilled down her tawny brown cheeks. "Kelly, I'm going to miss you so much."

"Me too, Mo." She wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm so upset that you're going and we don't know when you'll be back."

"Same here." He gathered her in his arms and pulled her in closely. "But I'll write to you all the time."

Sad—and somewhat irritated—Kelly laid her head against his chest. Letters, packages, emails...they simply weren't enough. _This is the part where you tell me how much it means to you that I'm waiting for you, Modoch Chukker. This is the part where you either ask me to marry you, or tell me that you're going to make me your wife when you finally come back._

Much to her chagrin, he did neither.

They stood, silent and unmoving, until the announcement blared over the intercom: "Launch of the Stellar Ship Explorer in T minus thirty minutes."

"This is it, Kelly." His face was grim. "I've got to go."

"I know."

He kissed her forcefully, crushing her against him. "I love you, Kelly Ayn Asimov."

"I love you too, Modoch Chukker."

With one last, long glance, one which looked like he was trying to emblazon the sight of her on his brain, he picked up his suitcase. "Good-bye, my love," he told her mournfully. "I'll see you when I see you."

 _That's_ _it_ _?_ she thought incredulously. Her lips parted as she stared at her boyfriend's retreating form. _That's all I get?_ _Seriously_ _? More than two years together, and all I get is 'I'll see you when I see you'? If he wasn't gonna propose, then he could have at least asked me to wait for him._

Then another, darker thought popped into her head: _Or he could have had the decency to set me free._

She quickly shook her head, trying to rid herself of that thought as quickly as it had come. But she couldn't help but feel cheated that her friend Sven had asked his girlfriend to marry him before he went off on his mission, yet her own boyfriend Modoch had not.

* * *

Lieutenant Stensson raised an eyebrow as her sights trailed downwards to Jeff's luggage. "Really? You're _really_ taking that thing on the Explorer with you, Aki?"

He smirked. "Well, I'm not leaving it here. Why, do _you_ wanna keep it?"

She shook her head. "Nope. It's yours. I mean, you spent so much time with it and all."

Playfully, he stuck his tongue out at her in reply. Then, without warning, his expression changed. "I'm gonna miss you, Girlie." He held out his arms for a hug, and she eagerly returned his embrace. "You always understood me."

She rested her head against his shoulder. "I always did. I'll miss you, Jeffie. Come back home safe, you understand?"

"Girlie, if it's up to me, you know I will. Keep your fingers crossed and say some prayers for me, got it?"

"Aki, I'll say prayers for _all_ of you." The lieutenant's eyes crinkled, and for a second, she looked as though she was about to cry. "You guys are my family. Well, a big chunk of my family, anyway. I want you all to come home safely."

It was a moment too sad for words, and he could feel his friend's sorrow deep from her heart as she spoke. He tightened his grip around her, almost afraid to let go. Because once he did, it would make all of this real. And he didn't know how to let go of his past for good so he could focus on his future.

* * *

Approaching the hangar, Aidan trailed in Cliff's footsteps. He couldn't believe that they were all saying good-bye. It was surreal, watching his family leave the Garrison. It hadn't hurt so much when it was Keith, Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Sven. But this time, it was Jeff, Cinda, Ginger, Lisa, and his best Mate, not to mention Rocky and Chip. He cared more for this crew than the crew that went to Arus.

Not that he loved that crew any less. _Most_ of them, anyway. It was Sven; their navigator was the only one he'd held any contempt for. He wasn't sorry to say he was glad that the Norwegian was gone. It was one less grudge for him to hold.

"Mate." Cliff stopped in his tracks for a moment to turn to his best friend. "I don't know what I'm going to do without you." He smirked. "Worse, I don't know what _you_ are going to do without _me_. Only one of us was the voice of reason in that dorm room, and it wasn't you."

"Ha frickin' ha." Aidan grabbed his arm, and the two of them shared a brotherly hug. As they did, Cliff could see the chain around his friend's neck. His father had treated him to a three-week trip to Italy as a graduation present, and as a memento, Aidan wore three cornicello pendants on a gold chain around his throat. "I'll miss you too, Mate. Thanks for leaving me to hold down the fort on Earth with three women."

Cliff rolled his eyes. "Speaking of three women, you'd better say good-bye to the girls before we leave. Oh, and Jeff, too."

"Of course." Aidan shook Jeff's hand good-bye, practically peeling Morgan off him to do so, then embraced Ginger and Cinda. He kissed each one of them on the cheek, thinking about how crazy it was that their entire family had been split into three separate entities.

He saved Lisa for last.

The ebony-eyed beauty with that long, shimmering dark hair had always been attracted to him, and he knew it. It wasn't that he didn't think she was pretty—she most _definitely_ was—but he'd been too hung up on Lenora to ever give Lisa the time of day. And it wasn't only that...she was just _too_ nice. He felt like he might ruin her, might destroy her innocent spirit and that sweet nature of hers. And he'd never be able to forgive himself for doing that.

It was the reason he hadn't pursued anything on Senior Night*. Oh, he could have, if he'd been a bigger jerk. He could have taken her right there in the dorm room and she probably wouldn't have fought him off. But he didn't. He respected her too much to have done that.

"Aidan." Her melodic voice rang out through the hangar, and he noticed how glittery her eyes were. On closer inspection, he could see tears—actual _tears_ —shining in those large orbs. "I'll miss you so much."

He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, wondering what things might have been like if he had been able to let go of his hang-ups and date her. "I know, Lis. I'll miss you, too. Come back home safely, you hear me?" With that, he planted one gentle kiss on her forehead.

As he withdrew, he found her hands around his face, her fingers reaching to lace behind the back of his head. She closed her eyes and drew him in, locking her lips onto his for one last, _real_ kiss. He allowed her to do it, allowed himself to be swept up in those confusing emotions.

Then, suddenly, she pulled away. "Good-bye, Aidan."

Stunned, he watched as she gathered up her belongings and moved towards the Explorer without so much as a glance back. He didn't know if it hurt her to look back at him, but it certainly hurt _him_ for a brief moment to watch her leave. With a swallow, he brought two fingers up to touch his tingling lips. "Good-bye, Lis."

* * *

As the new Voltron Vehicle Force began to board the Explorer, Newley elbowed Hawkins in the arm. "Um...what is _that_?" he hissed, pointing to the Air Team captain as he struggled with his luggage. He had two items: a very large shoulder bag, and an even larger red… _What_ _is_ _that thing, anyway?_

"Oh, all right, I'm on it." Hawkins approached Jeff and tapped him on the shoulder. "Captain Aki?"

Jeff dropped his bags to salute. "Commander Hawkins, Sir?"

The new commander raised a curious eyebrow and motioned towards the item in question. "What in blazes is _that_?"

From behind them came a round of snickering. Several of the Vehicle Team members obviously knew exactly what this red thing was. "Well, Sir, it's a beanbag chair."

"A _what_?"

"A beanbag chair, Sir. I sort of inherited it from one of my friends who was chosen for the mission to Arus. It's coming on the Explorer with me." He stared back at the commander with a straight face, even as Rocky doubled over with laughter in the background. "It's important, Sir."

Exasperated, Hawkins rubbed his eyes. "Fine. Carry on, Captain Aki." _Oh, these kids are trying my patience already._

"Thank you, Sir." Jeff picked up his shoulder bag and his beanbag chair and started back on his course towards the ship. His new teammates began to follow suit, each of them dragging their own personal belongings along.

The commander inhaled and closed his eyes, shaking his head in what was almost amusement. He wouldn't let these kids get the better of him. Not just yet, anyway. They had only just begun on their journey.

* * *

Space Marshall Graham stood off to the side, accompanied by Lieutenant Stensson. She was the only member of his inner circle who had come to see the S.S. Explorer off. Not that he was surprised; she had more reason to be there than most.

This was it. The Explorer was about to lift off. With a brand-new crew inside.

"You know, Matthias, I never realized until this very moment how much it would hurt to watch my ship take off without me."

At those words, both Graham and Stensson turned their heads to the voice. The newly-retired Commander Moriarty, dressed casually in chinos and a short-sleeved pine-green polo shirt, stood next to them, his gaze locked onto the departing stellar ship.

"Will. What are you doing here?" Graham placed a hand on the older man's shoulder.

Moriarty shook his head, breaking his gaze free from the Explorer. "I had to see my ship launch one last time, Matthias. I had to see for myself that it was in good hands without me. And with Hawkins and Newley at the helm, I know it will be." He cleared his throat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a scheduled tee time that I can't miss…"

* * *

* See "Last Dance" for more details


	4. Blind

_Author's Note_ _: I really like this chapter. I hope you all do too._

 _To Emie Mac: The beanbag chair makes its grand debut! Come on, you knew it was going to show up eventually. :P And yes, I_ _have_ _been watching Legendary Defender, and I love it. What a GREAT update for Voltron._

 _To Kava: I love Morgan's relationship with Jeff. But her relationship with Christiane is just as good, and you'll see more of it in the coming chapters._

 _To Sunshineleo: Hello my darling! It's so good to be back, I can't tell you how happy I am. The baby gets lots of kisses from you. And did I tell you that there's a girls' trip to Vegas in the works for Columbus Day weekend? The room at the Wynn and my flight are already booked. (!)_

 _To Susan: You're right, Modoch was a jerk to Kelly. If I could ever finish that short story "Wrecking Ball," you'd see how much._

 _To WarzonePrez: Now you've got a little more fodder to work with when it comes to Modoch. And you know my feelings on Aidan—he's my favorite. Always has been, always will be. (And for the record, I have been making a significant dent in that Tanqueray vodka I found in my basement.)_

 ** _Title Song: "Blind" by Hurts_**

* * *

"You know, this mission would be a lot easier with some food. I am so freakin' hungry, I could eat a horse. Or a cow. Or a penguin."

"A _penguin_?" Lance stopped to scrunch up his face, even though no one could see him in the darkness. "Gotta hand it to you, Hunk—that's a new one."

Pidge started to laugh, and even Sven began to snort in amusement behind them. Only Keith remained quiet, leading the pack in an overly-serious fashion. To the others, it seemed as though he had the entire universe resting on his shoulders, trying to see them through this disastrous mission. In reality, he was maintaining vigilance, all of his senses awaiting the Drule forces that were undoubtedly on the hunt for them. Somehow, he _knew_ that Zarkon's soldiers would come chasing after them.

"Guys, shut up already!" Keith's frustrated cry suddenly rang through the desolate moonlit forest. "This is bad enough without the whole lot of you acting like it's a game. For crying out loud, it's _not_! We're in a life-or-death situation right now, and if any of you ever wants to make it back to Earth again, you'll shut up and help me!"

Four pairs of eyes turned to face their captain, and a moment of stark quiet followed. "Geez," Lance finally cracked, breaking the silence, "it looks like Kogane's put on his pair of cranky pants again."

"McClain, I swear to God…"

 _"Relax."_ Sven situated himself between his friends. "Both of you, _relax_. This isn't going to get any better until we find that castle...and even then, it still might not get better. But I promise you, it most definitely will _not_ improve if you're both at each other's throats."

"Eh, Viking's got a point." Hunk shrugged. "We'd better make it to that castle...that is, if there even _is_ a castle."

"Oh, there is, Tsuyoshi," Keith corrected him. "I saw it. Briefly, but I saw it."

"Are you sure?" Pidge asked hesitantly. "Do you think we'll ever get there?"

The look of determination in Keith's turquoise eyes radiated outward. "Oh, we'll get there, all right. Or we'll die trying."

* * *

Jeff wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of being in charge of the entire Voltron Vehicle Force. Though he'd placed fourth in their graduating class, Keith, Lenora, and Sven had all ranked above him, respectively, so he almost felt as though he was going in blind. He might have been the highest-ranked on the team, but he _still_ didn't know if he had what it took to be captain.

It was his quick temper and his hot-headedness. Those two traits were going to do him in.

"Mate, you look like your head's about to blow. Stop letting all of this leadership business get to you."

He turned his head to face his fellow captain—well, Cliff _was_ captain of the Land Team, if not the entire Voltron Force. "Jack. Since when can you read my thoughts as well as you do Aidan Dalloway's?"

The blond Aussie laughed. "I had the same look on my face, too. I mean, I placed _seventh_ in our graduating class, after all. Who am I to be captain?" He shrugged. "Then Crik told me to stop worrying. Imagine that! The guy's a Miran, like Cinda, except his sixth sense is even stronger than hers is."

"Hey, that's cool. Another Miran." Jeff struggled to recall who Crik was. _Oh yeah...the captain of the Sea Team. Hey, isn't Lisa on the Sea Team?_ "So then, if his sixth sense is so great, why doesn't he know that I'd like to see him in person...right here, right now?"

"Oh, but I do."

The Air Team captain did a double take at the heavy Miran accent. "Umm...hello," he stammered nervously, lifting his hand to the back of his head.

The blue-skinned Sea Team captain eyed Jeff inquisitively as though studying him. "I met Cliff earlier," he explained. "Since he's the captain of the Land Team, I figured that I should fill him in on two of his new subordinates, Hutch and Marvin. For some reason that I haven't yet figured out, they were two of my best friends during our years at the Academy." He shrugged.

Jeff laughed, thinking of Cliff with Lance McClain and Aidan Dalloway. "Sounds familiar."

"They lived in the room next door to me during my first year," Crik continued. "My roommate Taye and I tried to avoid them at first, but then there was the…" he lowered his voice, "... _cherry bomb incident_ , and after that, the four of us were a family." He glanced down at the floor wistfully for a moment. "You have no idea how much I wish that Taye had gotten a position on the Voltron Force, too. I miss his brand of crazy already."

Cliff smiled. "I understand you there, old chap. My roommate Aidan was the same way, abso-bloody-lutely crazy." He looked over at Jeff, who nodded in agreement. "It sounds like our Academy roommates would've gotten along brilliantly."

"Yes." A smile played along Crik's lips, and he reached his hand out to shake Jeff's. "It's nice to meet you officially, Jeff…?"

"Aki. Jeffrey Manabu Aki."

"Crik Miranda Keats."

"Clifford Walter Jack." The Land Team captain placed one hand on Crik's shoulder, the other on Jeff's. "Well, now that we've got that squared away, why don't we all go introduce ourselves to the Voltron Force as a cohesive unit? Let's really get to know the members of our Land, Sea and Air Teams."

"Sounds good to me," Jeff agreed. The three team captains began to walk in the direction of the ship's lounge, knowing that the vast majority of their team members would be there. "And by the way, why is it that two graduating classes in a row had a fruit association to it?"

Cliff and Crik both turned to face in Jeff's direction. "What do you mean by that?" the Sea Team captain asked.

Jeff contorted his lips to keep the grin off his face. "Well, you just said that your graduating class had the cherry bomb incident. Did we tell you that, on Senior Night, _our_ class had the lemon drop incident?"

At that, Cliff buried his face in his hands.

* * *

Morgan cursed herself out as she rushed to class. She was normally a very punctual person—actually, _the_ most punctual person. She was never late for anything, and she was usually early; it was the navigator in her. But last night, she'd forgotten to set her alarm clock, so when she woke up, she found herself with _no_ time to get ready. She'd even foregone a shower. _I hope I don't stink._

This was not the class she wanted to be late for. This was, technically, the first official class of her grad school career, having spent all of last week in orientation. _Great. Of_ _course_ _the first class would be the first class I'd be late for._

Rushing down the hallway, she managed to slide in through the doorway before the bell rang. The professor, Instructor Haddley, shot her a poorly-concealed dirty look but said nothing as he closed the door behind her.

The lecture hall was full. Morgan spied only one empty seat she could easily access, and she darted towards it. Dropping her messenger bag to the floor by her feet, she pulled out her ionic notepad and settled in.

"That was a bloody close shave," the guy sitting next to her whispered.

 _Why in the universe do I know that accent?_ She looked over, and her violet eyes locked on the steel-grey orbs belonging to her neighbor. It took her a moment to recognize him; it had been better than two years since he last bested Lance McClain in the Academy-wide shooting competition.

David Rackens.

 _Oh, gods in heaven, this is not my day._ "Yeah. Thanks for pointing that out," she replied curtly, turning her attention back to her notepad. Loyalty to her family, even Keith, was her strong suit. She would always side with Lance over this guy. _Good thing this is only one class. It's only one time. You'll be free of this dude in an hour or so._

Instructor Haddley cleared his throat from the podium at the front of the lecture hall. "Good morning, Sargeants," he greeted them by their official titles and not the term _cadets_. "I would like to start out by saying that unlike your previous classes as an undergrad at the Space Explorers Academy, you will not be changing rooms. This lecture hall will be your home for the first two years of your graduate studies." He looked around the room smugly. "I hope you chose your seats well, because this will be your seat for the next two years."

 _Oh dear God._ Morgan swallowed, suddenly feeling nauseous and somehow grateful that she hadn't eaten breakfast—she was sure that she would have vomited up her stomach contents if she had. She felt as though she'd been blindsided. _I'm stuck next to David Rackens for the next two years. Is it too late to back out? Oh, wait. The Garrison already deposited my tuition check. Guess I'm just gonna have to deal._ Hesitantly, she looked over her shoulder at him.

He seemed to have anticipated her reaction; his face was already turned to hers. "It looks as though we'll be stuck together for the next two years, my dear," he reiterated. "We might as well become study buddies for it." He extended his hand. "David Rackens."

"I already know who you are."

"Perhaps, but I don't know who _you_ are. Other than the fact that you're the sole navigation student in here."

"It's Morgan. Morgan Feld." She turned away from him in a huff. This guy had always taken a perverse pleasure in decimating Lance's targets. There was no way she was going to give him the time of day, and _certainly_ no way she was going to be his study buddy.

It was going to be a _long_ two years.

* * *

"Come here, girl! Sit down next to me!"

She vaguely registered her classmate's voice. Choosing to ignore it for the moment, she sat down in her usual seat, pulling out her digital notes and the latest technology in study materials. There was no way she was going to answer; after all, every last one of her fellow systems analysis students had turned a blind eye to her for the past two years. No one had cared about her, no one had even bothered with her. It was as though she didn't exist.

 _Well, if_ _he_ _preferred to act like I didn't exist, how can I blame anyone else for thinking the same thing?_

Her brother was both her blessing and her curse. When he graduated from the Space Academy last year, the brass had made a huge deal out of it. After all, he'd not only ranked first in the class, but he was also chosen to lead the team of five that had been sent on the exploratory mission to Arus.

As soon as her classmates put two and two together—that he was their fellow student's older brother—they all wanted a piece of her. Suddenly, everyone wanted to be her friend, everyone wanted to be her study buddy, every boy wanted to date her. It was as if being close to Christiane Eiko Kogane was one step away from being close to Keith.

She hated to tell them that, actually, they'd have a better chance of knowing him if they _didn't_ admit to knowing his sister.

With a sigh, the seer fleetingly looked up. "I'm good here, thanks," Christiane replied as kindly as she possibly could before turning back to her notes. _No one here really cares about me,_ she reminded herself as she shifted on the seat. _Jeff is the only one who_ _really_ _cares._

Jeff Aki, her brother's best friend and Academy roommate, had been the only one to reach out to her after graduation. She genuinely liked him, as well she should—gauging from the visions she'd had, he would be more to her than just a friend. Now he was gone, made captain of the Voltron Vehicle Force and traveling through the universe on the S.S. Explorer.

And someone named Morgan would be stepping in to fill his place.

The class quieted down when Instructor Givens walked into the room. "Good morning, Cadets," he greeted them, shooting his usual cursory glance straight at Christiane. He too was not immune to the allure that was Keith Akira Kogane; he seemed just as interested in her as anyone else in the room.

For a few seconds, she held eye contact, then looked down at her notes, her cheeks burning. This instructor was just another person who wanted something from her. Another person who wanted her brother out of her.

And he was going to be just as disappointed as the rest of them when he realized she could never give them that.

* * *

Though they hadn't been in space for very long, Commander Hawkins felt comfortable leaving Captain Newley at the helm of the bridge so he could grab something to eat. After all, the two of them had been a team for the last ten years, having first been aboard the Explorer under Commander Moriarty, and now in charge of the ship themselves. In the cafeteria, he spied an open seat at the bar and sat down.

"Oh!" Gazing over, the commander noted how the young man seated next to him sprung up in surprise and saluted him. _Sea Team uniform. Obviously not Crik...or Tangor...or Lisa. So, is it Shannon or Zandee?_ "Commander Hawkins! It'd be an honor to eat with you, Sir."

The Irish accent was a dead giveaway. _Shannon._ Sighing inwardly, Hawkins raised an eyebrow. "Of course. Be seated, Sargeant Izumo." _Please, oh please, don't let this be_ _too_ _painful._

He wondered if events like this had been in the fine print when he signed on to become commander.

Eagerly, Shannon scooted over to sit next to him, and Hawkins wondered how in blazes they were ever going to make small talk. All he'd wanted was a sandwich, maybe a burger. Mindless conversation hadn't been on the proverbial menu.

As it turned out, he didn't have to worry about it. "I'm so honored to be serving the Garrison as part of the Voltron Force," the Irishman gushed. "It made my whole family proud… _especially_ my older brother, Kieran."

Hawkins raised an eyebrow. "That name rings a bell. Kieran Izumo? He's part of the crew on the S.S. Rand under Commander Thibeault, isn't he? I recall making contact with him a few times under Commander Moriarty."

Shannon beamed. "Yes, that's him! He's not much of a pilot, but he's an incredible systems analyst. One of the youngest to ever join the Rand." A broad smile spread across his face. "They're in the Far Galaxy now, trying to keep tabs on this Prince Lotor character from Planet...oh, what was it called again? I can't remember the real name, but its nickname is Doom."

"Korrinoth," the commander reminded him. "King Zarkon Daibazaal is the ruler, and Prince Lotor Sincline Daibazaal is his son."

The Sea Team member's expression turned from surprise to admiration. "Wow...you _know_ all of this, Sir?"

"Of course I do." He shifted on top of the barstool. "Commander Moriarty—he just retired from this ship—spent a great deal of time tracking down information on the Drule Supreme Council. Korrinoth is the ninth kingdom out of ten." Suspiciously, he glanced over the menu. His choices were down to the club sandwich or the BLT. "About five years ago, we learned that Planet Drule in the Near Universe had been the eleventh kingdom, but the leaders broke away from the Council for reasons unknown."

"Surely you have an idea, though. Don't you?"

Before he could reply, Sammy, the ship's long-time chef, approached his patrons. Looking Hawkins up and down with a smirk, he greeted him with, "Well well, _Commander_ , what can I get you?"

"The same as always, Sammy. The BLT, hold the mayo." Hawkins raised an amused eyebrow. "Let's have no mistakes this time, shall we?"

Turning and walking back to the kitchen, Sammy grumbled to himself, "Those snarky lieutenants, they think that just because they got promoted to captain and commander of the ship that now they're hot sh-"

Ignoring the chef, Hawkins turned back to Shannon. "Where were we?"

"I asked if you had any idea why Planet Drule broke off from the Supreme Council."

"Well, we have a few." The commander shrugged. "The theory that makes the most sense is the one which says that Planet Drule is located in the Near Universe, while the Supreme Council is located in—and therefore composed of—planets in the Far Universe. The distance was simply too great."

Shannon frowned. "That's too easy."

"And we both know it." Hawkins stared at the Irishman for a moment before turning his gaze back to the counter. Like magic, Sammy had returned with his BLT, plopping the plate in front of him almost vehemently. "Commander Moriarty thought so, too, but he didn't have the chance to prove that theory to the contrary." He began to tear his sandwich apart, looking for the glob of mayonnaise that he knew had to be in there.

Shannon watched him. "Digging for gold there, Commander?"

"Found it." Picking up his butter knife, the commander scraped the glob of mayonnaise off the lettuce, smearing it onto the side of the plate. "SAMMY!" he shouted. "I told you, no mayo!"

The chef shrugged, a delightfully evil grin playing on his lips. "Oh, is _that_ what you said? I didn't quite hear you."

* * *

The five space explorers stopped at the drawbridge, frozen, listening to the odd sounds. Keith had been right; he _knew_ he'd seen a castle—he wasn't insane. But what was _this_? A winged lion statue that roared?

A joke. It had to be a joke.

"Well...it's kinda cool," Pidge offered with a shrug, trying to make some sense out of their situation. "And it's very majestic. _And_ I bet it does a good job of keeping away intruders."

Lance scratched his head. " _Really_ , Shorty? Have you seen this place? I haven't seen a planet more war-torn since...er...ever." He tilted his chin upwards at the statue, which roared again, seemingly in defiance. "Besides, if you think about it, we're kinda like intruders, too, and it's not scaring _us_ off, so—"

Before he could continue, Sven slammed his palm over his roommate's mouth, effectively silencing him. _"_ _Hold kjeft,"_ he muttered darkly, glaring at him menacingly. "If it's not helping anyone, McClain, don't say it."

Lance blinked in response. For a few quiet seconds, he remained still. The silence didn't last long, however, and he shook Sven's hand off his mouth. "Sheesh, Viking. You don't have to tell me twice."

"Sometimes it seems like he does," Keith quipped, grateful for his second-in-command. _What the heck would I do without him? I swear, he holds this team together._ _He_ _should have been chosen as captain, not me._ "Sven, I don't know what you told him in Viking, but whatever it was, thanks...it did the trick."

The Norwegian lifted an eyebrow as Lance wiped his mouth. "Oh, please," the cocky flyboy shot back. "This guy's been telling me to shut up for _years_."

"Ah. So that's how you say _shut up_ in Viking." Hunk looked somewhat impressed. "I'm gonna have to remember that."

"Okay, enough." Keith drew the conversation back on topic, glancing past the bridge and studying the castle. It was all but destroyed, essentially crumbling back into the dirt. _How is it still upright?_ "We've gotta go in there." _Is it even safe to go in there?_ "Sven? What do you think?"

The navigator swallowed, fixing his slate-blue sights on the ruins before them. "What do _I_ think? I think that, as much as we might not like it, the only way forward is to go into that castle. Even if the devil himself lives there."

"Pfft." Lance looked annoyed. "The devil himself is Zarkon Daibazaal. _He_ obviously does not live there."

"Yeah." Enraged, Hunk pulled back the sleeve of his shirt. "Did you guys not see these slave brands he put on us? That demon is gonna pay for this mark. I _swear_ I'll make him pay!"

They were all angry about that same thing. Each one of them had been tattooed with the brand that marked Doom's slaves; obviously, they would not settle for that status. They were no one's slaves, not even the Garrison's. None of them would allow this souvenir to remain etched on his skin permanently.

"And there's no Tattoo Emporium around here to fix it," Keith muttered under his breath.

Pidge looked over at him curiously. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

Green eyes blinked back at turquoise ones. _Nothing_ got by Pidge; their boy genius was too smart to pull a fast one on. "Uh, sure, Chief. We'll revisit later." He shrugged. "Provided there _is_ a later."

"Come on." Keith trudged towards the castle first, dragging his team in tow. "Lance, cover me. Sven, you bring up the rear. Pidge and Hunk, do whatever it is you've gotta do."

"Geez," Hunk quipped, "you make it sound like me an' Shorty have better places to be."

"Eyes open, mouths shut."

They hoisted their weapons in a defensive stance and moved forward. Keith brandished a sword which had been burnt, being charred and jagged along the edge of the blade. Lance had strapped something that looked like a distorted version of brass knuckles to his hands. Pidge held a collection of flat, disc-shaped stones; a series of something small to throw in a pinch. Hunk hoisted what looked like the remains of steel chains—too large to be nunchucks, but still easy enough to whip against an enemy. Sven carried what might have been an axe, but was broken and blackened.

They had no clue if those weapons would be enough, but they had to have faith. They had been trained by Galaxy Garrison, after all. They were graduates of the Space Academy. Even without pistols—Lance's specialty, yes, but they were all good with laser blasters—they would be able to defeat any enemy in hand-to-hand combat.

Besides, they had just escaped from the slave pits on Doom. How much worse could it get?

 _It could_ _always_ _get worse._ Keith gritted his teeth and clenched his hands even more tightly around his sword. He held that stance, almost painfully so, as they crossed the drawbridge, climbed up the crumbling stairs, and pushed open the main door to the castle.

The room was dark, even with the doors wide open. The captain squinted, and as his vision came into focus, he could make out the remains of a great hall. The only thing still wholly intact was the grand staircase, and even then, Keith wouldn't have bet money on its stability. "Okay, team. Spread out. See if you can find anything—or any _one_ —that can help us."

"Got it," four voices echoed.

As they began to take off in five separate directions, the telltale creaking of that main door shot through the great hall. _No_ , Keith thought in disbelief, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. _Oh God, no. I've brought us here to die._

 _"Run for it!"_ he screamed.

Immediately, his four teammates and brothers-in-arms made a frantic dash for the exit. Sven was the closest, but the heavy double doors closed within inches of his outstretched hand. The room plummeted into blackness.

"Step aside, boys!" Hunk ordered, not bothering to wait for his eyes to adjust to the dark. "I'm gonna ram us the heck outta here!"

"T-Tsuyoshi," Pidge stammered fearfully, "if you do that, you'll kill yourself."

"Does it _matter_?" The engineer's hiss cut through the darkness. "Haven't you figured out that we're all dead already?"

Keith opened his mouth to respond, but the words stilled in his throat when they heard a gentle voice acknowledge, "Your friend is correct. You _will_ kill yourself if you try to ram those doors open with just your shoulder." A ghostly light appeared— _A candle?_ —and the only object visible was a hint of a smirk beneath a full mustache. "Zarkon Daibazaal himself couldn't break down those doors. Do you still wish to try?"

Suddenly, they understood. They hadn't come here to die. They had come here to save...and to _be_ saved. Keith held out both arms to calm down his teammates. "Who are you?" he asked with a sharp edge in his voice.

"My name is Coran. I used to go by my last name of _Raible_ , but no one has called me that in many, many years." The man held the candle out away from him, moving it from left to right to get a good look at each of his five visitors. "I am... _was_...the castle diplomat and military strategist. Now, though? Now I am nothing more than the keeper of these ruins." His face was solemn, but his eyes held the smallest glimmer of hope. "You have no idea how long I have been waiting for this day."

Five pairs of eyes glanced at each other. "Creepy," Lance muttered under his breath. "I think I might've preferred the slave pits on Doom to this."

Sven whacked him on the back of the head.

 _"Ow!"_

Keith ignored the both of them, focusing on the man's warm golden eyes. He seemed honest enough. Trustworthy. Endearing. The team captain wanted to speak with him, tell him about their mission and the real reason they were on this God-forsaken planet to begin with.

And then, without warning, Coran attacked them.

"What the…?" Hunk shrieked incredulously as he narrowly avoided a strike from the strategist's cane. "Where in the world did that weapon come from?" Indeed, a sharp tip had appeared at the bottom of the walking implement, and the man was skilled enough in a crude form of martial arts to use it well.

"Is this some sort of joke?" Lance called out as he lifted his fists, clad in those busted-up brass knuckles, into a fighting stance. "'Cuz if it's not...well, if he wants a fight, he's sure as heck got one now." He charged, punching the cane with all of the strength in his body.

"And if it _is_ a joke, then it's not funny," Pidge chimed in. He whipped the series of small stones at Coran with deadly accuracy. The strategist ducked, avoiding the stones and another blow from Lance at the same time. "I'm not laughing."

"Me neither," Sven grimaced, hoisting his axe over his head in preparation to strike. _"Gå til helvete!"_

As his axe hit the cane, the blade fell off the stake it was attached to, effectively rendering him with a very large stick and little else to defend himself with. Unperturbed, the Norwegian swung what remained like a bo, putting to good use the moves he'd practiced at the Academy with his _elskede_.

Coran swung his cane in the same fashion.

As Keith watched his teammates—the only people he might ever call his family—fight against the advisor, he felt the anger blossom within his body. These men were not his blood, but they were more of a family to him than anyone else ever would be. His pulse quickening, he tightened his grip around that pathetic excuse for a sword and charged. He never thought about the consequences.

With Sven at his side, the team captain slashed at Coran, his eyes widening murderously. If they had to take down the castle diplomat to save their own hides, so be it. Keith was not going to die now. If they had survived Doom's slave pits, they would live through this. If he had anything to say about it, they were all going to make it back home.

"CORAN!" The hysterical screech rang through what was left of the great hall. "STOP IT! STOP IT THIS INSTANT!"

At those words, Coran leapt backwards, still holding up his cane in defense. The candle, which he'd swiftly placed on the ground prior to attacking them, tipped over, yet the castle diplomat did not move to pick it up. "Princess," he murmured before his voice came out stronger, "I tested them. These are our men. The ones we've been waiting for. Behold, the saviors of Arus!"

 _Saviors of Arus?_ Keith warily lifted his eyes in the direction of the woman's scream. _And what does he mean,_ _Princess_ _? This mission is getting weirder the further we go._

She stood at the top of that crumbling staircase, barely visible in the flickering light. He could make out traces of her: a full gown, a small waist, slender wrists. Then he caught a glimpse of golden hair and green eyes...and was blinded.


	5. Tainted Love

_Author's Note_ _: According to Wikipedia, Baal—or **Ba'al** —is one name for "_ _Ba'al Zəbûb [which] is variously understood to mean 'lord of flies.'" Scholars, leaders, rulers, lords and the like, especially "Symmachus the Ebionite[,] may have reflected a tradition of its offensive ancient name when [t]he[y] rendered it as" Beelzebub._ _Beelzebub is "another name for the devil, and in Christian demonology, is one of the seven princes of hell."_ _He "is also identified in the New Testament as Satan, the prince of the demons." Since I tend to see the GoLion name_ _Daibazaal_ _as a bastardized version of_ _Beelzebub_ _, I find_ _Ba'al_ _to be a wholly appropriate name for the demon that the citizens of Korrinoth would pray to._

 _In addition to Ba'al, Sarga is Haggar's own personal goddess. She has her roots in DDP's Voltron comic series._

 _And one more thing: this chapter has a slight nod to my Lovey_ ** _ForeverWells_** _and her story "Find Your Way To My Heart." Let's see how many people pick up on it. ;)_

 _To Guest (Emie Mac?): I knew you'd get the Crankypants reference! And don't worry about Christiane just yet, she'll meet Morgan & gain a new friend in the upcoming chapters. As for beanbag chair...this is not its only appearance in this story, I promise you that._

 _To Kava: I hate to be the bad guy, but yeah, Kieran Izumo is not going to be in good standing in the upcoming chapters. If you've watched VV, you'll know that. BUT, having read the last two chapters of ITE, you'll know that things end up OK. But how they get from here to there is an entirely unpredictable ride._

 _To WarzonePrez: Get on this! You know what you need to do...AND you know what you need to drink._

 _To Susan: I have NO idea what Jon & Rich did to tick Sammy off in their past adventures. Maybe there's a side fic somewhere…? (BTW, I'm glad you're a VV fan! I forgot about Sammy & the guitar, but you brought that back. I may need to work that in somewhere.)_

 ** _Title Song: "Tainted Love" by Soft Cell_**

* * *

He may have been king, but a king was only as great as those who surrounded him _—_ those who advised him, fought with him _and_ for him, died for him. If that was the case, then Zarkon Daibazaal of Planet Korrinoth, the Ninth Kingdom in the Drule Supreme Council, was nowhere near the pinnacle of his glory.

"They escaped. You let them escape, Yurak." Zarkon's voice was low and deadly as he addressed his most highly-decorated war general. "Those five space explorers from Galaxy Garrison. The ones who destroyed my robeast in the arena." His cat-like yellow eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. " _How_ in the name of Ba'al could you make such a grievous mistake?"

On one knee, Yurak bowed his head. "Sire," he responded coolly, "how in the name of Ba'al could those space explorers destroy your robeast? They are but five puny humans!"

Zarkon did not particularly care for his general's answer. _The arrogance...the impudence...I should have him chained and whipped like the dog he is._ Gripping his scepter and willing his voice eerily calm, he responded, "Then it should have been simple for you and your men to shoot down their ship. After all, they stole one of _your_ slave ships. As the highest-ranked man of your crew, you should know your vessel inside and out."

For that, Yurak had no rebuttal. His mouth dropped open wordlessly, his one good eye enlarging to the point of comedy.

The king was about to chastise him further when he felt her presence behind him. "Sire," the old witch cackled in that voice which made his skin crawl, "it is my humble belief that you should send General Yurak to Arus after those space explorers. After all, you have plenty of other matters to attend to, and Yurak is able enough."

The way she spoke the words _able enough_ implied that she thought otherwise. Yurak desperately wanted to verbally lash out at her, but he held his tongue. Haggar was protected by Zarkon, and he knew whose side the king would take if it came down to choosing between his general and the witch.

"As I mentioned before, Sire, we have other matters to attend to." A hint of a smile showed behind the shadows of the witch's cloak. "We must discuss the expansion of the Empire...in ways _not_ pertaining to warfare."

Her comment garnered a slightly cocked brow and a gleam of interest in the king's eyes. "Then I shall meet with you privately, old witch. I've no need for anyone to overhear our conversation." Zarkon then turned his head towards his general. "Yurak," he barked, "go make yourself useful."

Gritting his teeth, the general replied, "Of course, Sire. I will go to Arus and bring back those space explorers. Though I can't guarantee that I will bring them back alive."

Zarkon already looked disinterested in Yurak's pledge. The general ignored it and, offering them both a stiff bow, exited the throne room. As he did, one thought filled his mind: _How in the name of Ba'al does the old witch know that those space explorers had crashed on Arus?_

* * *

Keith's entire body rattled with nerves as the princess descended down that decrepit staircase. He couldn't stop staring at this woman; her beauty was unmatched. Even in the dark and despair, she alone was a spark of hope.

She was the exact opposite of Morgan in looks. He'd always thought that his ex-girlfriend was beautiful, but _this_ was beyond beauty. _This_ was grace, elegance, class...

 _She's perfect._

Once she had reached the bottom of the staircase, her green eyes latched onto Keith. "You say that these men are the ones we've been waiting for, Coran." She addressed her advisor without tearing her gaze off the handsome team leader. "If so, then I would highly suggest that you _not_ kill them outright."

Keith stifled a laugh. _Beautiful_ _and_ _witty. I like her. A_ _lot_ _._

"Of course not." Coran shook his head. "I merely wanted to test them. I wanted to see their show of strength." Then, acknowledging the five space explorers, he added, "I am sorry to attack you. It was only to see if you are worthy of our greatest line of defense."

Lance was still annoyed. "Well?" he snorted. "Did we pass?"

"All of you passed, yes. With flying colors."

"Not surprised." The cocky pilot crossed his arms over his chest. "We _were_ all at the top of our graduating class, after all."

His retort earned him another smack upside the head from his Academy roommate.

 _"Ow!_ Geez, Viking, if you don't knock that off, I'm gonna _—_ "

 _"Stop."_ Before Keith could respond to the bickering, the princess had opened her own mouth to silence Lance's. "Do you come out with these... _comments_...all the time, or only when you are tired, hungry and annoyed?" The pink skirts of her tattered gown rustled angrily about her feet, matching her tone of voice. "Have you no shame? No decency? Were you raised by a pack of wolves?"

 _Amazing. She's amazing._ The team captain was instantly smitten. This young woman understood Lance perfectly, and she was calling him out on his poor behavior. How could anyone _not_ love her?

As for Lance, he understood her, too. Immediately. "What's the matter, _Princess_?" he retorted playfully. "Have _you_ got as much decency as _me_? I mean, here we are, hungry, tired, cranky _—_ well, _some_ of us, anyway," he shot a wink at Keith, " _—_ and on the run from the forces of Doom, and _you've_ got the nerve to lecture _me_? What, were _you_ raised by the same pack of wolves?"

 _"Lance…"_ Keith muttered warningly through clenched teeth.

Pidge hid his face behind his hands while Coran's mouth dropped open in shock. Obviously, the advisor was not used to anyone at all speaking to his princess in such a disrespectful way. He looked at her for a clue as to how to react and what to say.

All the while, Sven smacked Lance upside the back of the head once more.

A smile crept onto her full rosy lips, and immediately, a kinship was born. "It seems as though we were," she answered finally, tilting her head to the side and studying the cocky pilot with her large green eyes. "Raised by the same pack of wolves, I mean."

Lance rubbed the back of his head. "Good to know, Princess."

"Allura. Please call me _Allura_." She lifted her right hand towards them, almost as though she was bestowing a blessing upon them. "I will not have anyone who fights for my planet on anything less than a first-name basis with me."

"Leave it to Lance." Hunk rolled his eyes. "Charming the pants off the first woman we encounter on this mission. Just remember, McClain, there ain't no Lemon Drop martinis here, so what worked on Gingie won't cut it on this rock."

Allura's eyebrows furrowed. _"Lemon Drop martinis?_ Would someone care to explain?"

"Sure thing, Princess... _after_ we get situated." Lance shot her a smoldering bad-boy grin.

She didn't buy into his expression. "Well, I've told you all my name," she brushed him off. "I feel it's only fair for me to know yours as well."

"It's Lance Charles McClain, if you must know. But you can call me _Baby_." He preemptively held up his hands to prevent any further thwacks to the back of his head.

The Norwegian groaned. "My name is Sven Holgersson, the team's navigator and second-in-command." He shot a steely glance towards his roommate. "And apparently, Lance's baby-sitter."

"I'm Darrell. Darrell Stoker. I prefer _Pidge_ , but these guys usually call me _Shorty_."

"My real name's Tsuyoshi Garrett. But I mostly go by _Hunk_."

Keith took a deep breath. "I'm Keith Akira Kogane, the captain of this team of misfits." He glanced over at Lance, gritting his teeth. "And pay no attention to that idiot over there. Don't feel as though you have to refer to him as _Baby_."

Coran took that as his cue to get the space explorers back on track. Waving his cane through the air in one fluid motion, he mentioned, "This way to Castle Control."

"But that's the wall," Pidge spoke up.

The castle diplomat's eyes sparkled, and he leaned forward to press a button, cleverly hidden in the frame surrounding the portrait of one of the great Arusian monarchs. "You will see, young ones. You will see."

And what they saw made them all believe, for the first time, that perhaps the Drule Empire and the forces of Doom might actually... _finally_...fall.

* * *

For someone like Zarkon to shudder in the depths of Haggar's lair proved a testament to the eerie power it held.

The king hated being in the old witch's den. _Hated_ it. Though he trusted her more than anyone else in his service _—_ after all, she was the only one who had his best interests at heart _—_ he shuddered at the thought of being alone with her.

"Sire." She addressed him without turning to look at him, her face fixed on her shrine to Ba'al and its accompanying ever-burning flame. "I have received word from King Bhorn of Planet Naraku. Apparently, there are a handful of young royals within the Drule Supreme Council _—and_ outside of it _—_ who are interested in the availability of Prince Lotor."

Zarkon smirked. He'd known all along that his only son, with his flowing white hair softer Drule features, would make a much-sought-after husband. The fact that he was the sole heir to the throne of Korrinoth was beside the point; powerful women always lusted after a beautiful man, and vice versa. "Which ones, Haggar? Get on with it already!"

"There are a few." Turning to the pit of fires encased in her shrine to Ba'al, Haggar conjured up the images of several young women. "The one who has expressed the most interest is King Vatrix of the Fifth Kingdom of the Drule Supreme Council. This is his daughter, Princess Xarnaren."

The king was not wholly displeased with the image of Xarnaren; indeed, she was a lovely young woman with silky tresses and wide-set, almond-shaped eyes. No, the problem was in her father. Zarkon and Vatrix were none too fond of each other, and he was sure that his fellow Drule had only requested the betrothal in order to keep an eye on Korrinoth.

Sensing his hesitation, Haggar quickly continued, "This is Princess Corrall, daughter of Cardinal Sen of Demos. Though their planet is not Drule _—_ and therefore not within the Supreme Council _—_ your son would be well-matched with this pretty young lady. A marriage between them would unite two of the most evil planets in the galaxy, which could only spell a better chance for both to dominate the universe."

Zarkon paused. "It _would_ be a good thing, to be sure. But how am I to know for certain that Sen isn't out to stab me in the back? He's been known to betray his allies before, I'm sure he wouldn't think twice about instructing Corrall to murder Lotor in his sleep." He mulled over that thought for a moment, then grinned. "Then again, that might be a chance that I'm willing to take."

"Perhaps. But if I were you, Sire, I wouldn't be so quick to cast aside my only heir. We have no one else to assume the throne and take over for you." The old witch's grim face twisted. "Now, this young woman here is Duchess Merla, heir to the throne of the Seventh Kingdom. She cannot rule yet because her telepathic abilities have not fully matured, so there is a proxy currently ruling in her stead."

The king lifted an eyebrow to study the image of the woman. Merla was beautiful, far more beautiful than the other two women, with her violet-kissed skin and vivid pink hair. _And_ she was set for the throne of the Seventh Kingdom. _Lotor could do far worse,_ he mused quietly.

"And here is the most... _unexpected."_ Haggar conjured up the image of a young non-Drule woman with long, glowing golden tresses and aquamarine eyes. " _This_ young woman is Princess Romelle of Planet Pollux. Until recently, she was betrothed to Prince Tristan Philippe of Planet Elnor."

Zarkon was unimpressed. "Oh? Why would _she_ care about Lotor?"

"Well, Sire, I am under the impression that she does _not_ care about Lotor. The queen of Pollux had arranged for her child's betrothal to the prince of Elnor years ago, but she has recently passed away due to unknown circumstances." The witch had heard rumors that the woman's own husband had poisoned her, but she kept that information to herself. "Now it seems as though King Cova has broken his daughter's engagement, and in an effort to ally his planet with ours, is offering the princess to us as Lotor's bride in a show of good faith."

"Hmm." _This is very..._ _interesting_ _. What in the name of Ba'al does Cova want of Doom? And why does he want it so badly that he's willing to offer up his own daughter on a silver platter?_ "I might be willing to look into that arrangement, Haggar. _Might."_ His cat-like yellow eyes gleamed. "Now, old witch, I have a question for you, one which has nothing to do with Lotor's betrothal."

The witch had already turned to her shrine. "Oh?"

"Those space explorers. The ones who escaped from my slave pits. How in the name of Ba'al did you know that they crashed on Arus? No one knows about that except Yurak and his men."

Haggar paused, her hooded gaze still fixed on her shrine. "I serve powerful masters, Sire," she replied, not bothering to turn around to face him. "You are one of them, yes, but you are not the _only_ one. Ba'al and Sarga tell me much, and much more than I care to let on."

"Hmph." Zarkon supposed he shouldn't have expected a better answer. Though the old witch was his most loyal servant, even she did not place him on a pedestal higher than her gods. "If that's the best you can give me, Haggar, then I'll let it slide. I'll take it in good faith that your gods told you about those space explorers escaping to Arus. _However,"_ he hissed, "just know that I will not be happy if your Sarga did not totally destroy that cursed robot Voltron, and those fools manage to resurrect it. In that case, I will put the weight of its destruction on _your_ shoulders."

She didn't seem concerned. "As you say, my lord."

 _My lord._ She rarely used those words anymore; if anything, she used that term to mock him. He supposed that was his cue to leave. "Remember my words, Haggar," he threatened, his cape rustling behind him. "It will be on _your_ shoulders to destroy Voltron."

Once he had left her lair, the witch focused solely on her altar, clasping her hands together. Sometimes Sarga and even Ba'al appeared in front of her. Right now, they did not. And she did not know if that was a bad omen.

* * *

The knocking at the door was so loud that Hazar heard it through the noise of his shower.

"HAZAR! HA- _ZAR_!" Dorma's voice resounded behind the closed bathroom door.

 _Blast it. They always grab me while I'm in the shower._ The handsome young Drule captain shut off the water and reached for the towel. He was sopping wet, with his wavy shoulder-length white hair a stringy mess. As he stepped out of the tub to open the bathroom door, he wrapped the towel around his waist. "What is it, Dorma?" he sneered, coming face-to-face with his dark-haired sister.

"You've got to come quickly!" She was breathless, nearly overwhelmed by the magnitude of the information she had to share with her brother. "Hazar, they're going to make you a _commander_!"

His jaw dropped to the floor, along with the towel.

She covered her eyes while pretending to gag. "For heaven's sake, Hazar Teles! I don't think my vision will ever come back after seeing that."

He laughed, bending over to pick up his towel and reposition it as his sister covered her eyes with her hands. "Relax, Dorma Teles. You could have seen _worse_." He smirked. "I've heard rumors that that horrendous Prince Lotor Sincline of Planet Korrinoth is not very well-endowed. You could be _married_ to him..."

"STOP!" she shrieked. "There is _no_ way I would ever marry that creep. Besides, if I think about Lotor's manly bits, I am going to throw up."

He laughed again. No one could ever make him laugh the way his sister could. "Well, not in here, you won't," he joked, grabbing another towel to dry his wet hair. "Come on, I have to get dressed. Fill me in."

Dorma covered her pink-rimmed eyes with her hands and stumbled into her brother's bedroom, where he dressed swiftly in his official Drule officer uniform. "Emperor Zeppo called together a meeting of the minds last night," she began, telling the story as best she could. "No one knows what it was about, exactly _—_ it's highly classified. But the end result named you as commander of a Drule exploration fleet."

"That's unbelievable." He closed the final zipper, letting his stringy white hair down to dry. "Are there many fleets? Were there many promotions?"

"There are a few." She struggled to remember. "That idiot Quark, for one. There's Brack, and Nerok, and Mongo. Zabar, Borgam, and a woman named Twyla. All of you have been promoted to captain or commander of a fleet, depending on your current rank." Dropping her hands from her eyes, she raced over to hug her brother. "Oh, Hazar! Do you know what this means?"

Did he know what this meant? Surely every Drule over the age of five knew what it meant to be hand-selected by Emperor Zeppo and his advisors to a high position. It meant wealth, fame and power. It meant stability for his family, love and adoration from the many willing women who inhabited their planet. It meant being perceived as a god, as a savior and champion of their people.

It meant that their lives were about to change for the better. His, Dorma's, their parents'...all of them were about to live a better life than the one they currently had, solely because Emperor Zeppo had deemed him worthy to command one of his fleets.

"Of course I do, Dorma," he replied, his eyes shining with gratitude. "It means that the gods have been good to me, and our lives will only improve from here."

He could only hope it was true.

* * *

Lenora was in the midst of folding her laundry when the phone rang. Checking the number, she smiled, tucking the device between her ear and her shoulder so she could continue with her task while she spoke. "Hi, Mom."

"Hello, my darling. How are you?" Angelie Nabors-Stensson had a serene, calming voice, one which acted as a balm to her daughter's spirit. "I wanted to know if you were free this weekend, or if this new job of yours has you working seven days a week and leaves you with no spare time to spend with your mother."

"No, I'm free this weekend." She folded a pair of jeans and placed it on the bed. "Why? What have you got in mind?"

"I was thinking lunch at my favorite spot."

"The Russian Tea Room?"

"Yes. And then…" she paused dramatically, "...I've booked an appointment at a bridal salon so you can try on wedding gowns."

Lenora nearly dropped her phone, and she definitely dropped whatever article of clothing she was attempting to fold. _"What?"_ she shrieked, intentionally shouting the word into the speaker.

"Indoor voice, Nora."

She frowned, furrowing her eyebrows beneath an onslaught of unpleasant emotions. "Mom, Sven is on Arus right now. You know that." She gritted her teeth together as she picked up the fallen piece of clothing from the floor. "And you know that I don't want to start planning the wedding until he comes home."

"Oh, please. No one said anything about planning a wedding. I just wanted to see you in a big white dress, that's all." She coolly dismissed her daughter's fears. "Forgive me, Nora. You know how excited I am to see you as a bride. I can't wait. I only wish your father was here to witness it."

 _Ugh._ The comment felt like a bullet wound to Lenora's heart; her father had been murdered in a robbery when she was only fourteen years old, and the event had destroyed her. The only reason she'd come out of her own personal purgatory was because of Sven. His love had metaphorically breathed life back into her. "I know, Mom. I wish Daddy was still alive, too. He would have walked me down the aisle."

"Believe me, he would have been so happy to do it. And so proud." Angelie sniffled on the other end of the line. "Lately, I find myself thinking of him more often than not. With you being engaged, it makes me wonder about what life would have been like if he was still alive."

The bullet wound in her heart gaped wider. Her mother always _did_ know how to guilt her into doing anything she didn't want to do. "Okay, Mom. You win. Yes, I'll go with you to try on wedding gowns. Are you happy now?"

"Ecstatic." Angelie blew her daughter a kiss over the phone. "So you'll meet me at home, won't you?"

 _Home? To_ _Westchester_ _? She's crazy._ "Couldn't you come into the city, Mom? Home is so far away from Manhattan, all the bridal shops, _and_ the Tea Room."

"Oh, all right. I can give you that much."

"It'll make things easier, I promise."

"Oh, I'm sure it will. Because you've never lied to me before. At least, you haven't since you met Sven." Lenora could practically see her mother's smirk over the phone. "Good-bye, my darling. I can't wait to see you on Saturday."

"Me neither, Mom. I love you."

"I love you, too. Bye now."

Her shoulders shaking, Lenora ended the call and nearly threw her phone across the room. More than anything, she wished that Sven was there beside her right now. This was all wrong; they were supposed to move in together after graduation, _not_ be separated while he dutifully attended his mission to Arus, and she received nothing but hatred for being promoted to Lieutenant so quickly.

 _I miss you so much,_ _min elske_ _. Where in blazes are you now?_

Surrounded by her clean laundry, Lenora struggled not to cry as she thought about how her life had fallen in shambles around her ankles.

* * *

Prince Tristan Philippe of Planet Elnor had always been a proud young man, so sure of his place in life... _and_ who he would share it with. As of late, he'd been knocked down quite a few pegs, left to wonder who he was and how it had all gone awry.

 _She doesn't want to marry that creep Lotor, she wants to marry_ _me_ _. Why would her father break us up?_

The young prince had been betrothed to the beautiful princess of Pollux practically since birth; it was a marriage which their mothers had arranged. He figured that it would be his royal duty to combine their houses, so he hadn'tplanned on falling in love with her. But he had. Who _wouldn't_ fall in love with Romelle? She was attractive, of course, but there was so much more to her than her beauty. She was funny and spirited, attentive and charming, intelligent and attuned to political affairs.

In short, she was everything he wanted in a queen... _and_ in a wife.

They were supposed to have been married within the year. They had both turned eighteen _—_ which they knew was too young to be married, yes, but neither of them had any doubts that their relationship would go the distance _—_ and were starting to plan the royal wedding. Because he would eventually become king of Elnor, with Romelle by his side as queen, the official ceremony would take place on his planet, with a second ceremony to occur on Pollux at a later date. The princess had been so excited, eager to begin their life together.

Then her mother died.

The poor queen of Pollux had scarcely been buried when King Cova officially tore their engagement asunder. With his planet in mourning, he declared Romelle's betrothal to Tristan null and void, essentially cutting himself off from his allies on Elnor. And then, stranger still, sources began to surmise that he had been in contact with the Drule Supreme Council, for what reason no one could fathom.

Nothing made sense, leaving the young prince confused and devastated.

"Tristan. It's getting cold. You had better come inside."

Barquiel Aragrave, the king of Planet Elnor, had come chasing after him. He knew how upset his son was about his broken engagement, and though the prince didn't want to speak about it right now, he would want to talk about it eventually.

"I will, Father. I just…" He closed his eyes against the pain. "I just feel like nothing makes sense anymore. Like my entire life has been tainted."

"I understand." Barquiel placed a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. "No one understands why Cova has done what he's done. It's a mystery." He paused, watching Tristan's eyes as he pondered his father's words. "Perhaps it's the grief that has overtaken him. After all, the deceased queen of Pollux meant everything to him."

"It's too bad that Romelle doesn't," Tristan grumbled under his breath. "Because if he cared half as much for his daughter as he did for his wife, I wouldn't be in this situation now."

Barquiel cleared his throat. "I know, my son. I don't necessarily disagree with you. But if there is any chance for us to win Amue back, then we must lay low and wait to see what Cova's next few steps are. Then, once we figure out what he's planning, we step in, ambush him, and save her."

"Bandor. We have to save her little brother, too." The prince nodded feverishly, pleased by the fact that his father had referred to Romelle by her childhood nickname. "Avok, her older brother...he can go to blazes for all I care. Same as her father. But Bandor is innocent in all of this. They come as a package deal."

"I am in agreement. We rescue Amue and Bandor, bring them back here. Let Cova and Avok hang themselves, for all I care. What I want is to see those two innocent children safe."

Tristan forced himself to suppress a smile at his father's words. Bandor may have been only fifteen, but his beloved Romelle was an adult, legally and physically. _But let him believe what he wants. As long as he's willing to help rescue Amue and restore our engagement, then I don't care what he thinks._

"Thank you, Father." Feeling a little better, the prince turned towards the doorway to go inside the castle.

Barquiel, pleased by the change in his son's demeanor, led the way. "You are most welcome, my son. I mean it. We love Amue as much as you do. All of us adore her. So let's find a way to rescue her."

"I hope so." Tristan's spirits began to soar. They would find a way to help Romelle and Bandor. They _had_ to.

* * *

 _P.S.: As I was readying this chapter for publication, I realized that it was five years ago, in April of 2012, that my father-in-law passed away. I was in the midst of writing "Someone Like You" during that time period. Thanks to all of you who have been there with me and for me since I started putting these stories up. We've been through a lot together, and you guys are the best!_


	6. Wake Me Up When September Ends

_Author's Note_ _: I still can't believe it's been five years since my father-in-law passed. Five years. So many things change, and so many things stay the same._

 _To Emie Mac: I really love this retelling, and I enjoy writing it. It's so much fun to weave together so many backstories which intertwine. I'm glad you love it, too._

 _To Kava: Tristan started off a long time ago (via "I Can't See New York") and I'm finally getting the chance to bring him to life here. I've got to say, for a character that began almost as an afterthought, he does have a habit of growing on you._

 _To Susan: Don't worry, my dear, I'm not offended by any of your comments. If anything, they're fostering ideas. God help us all._

 _To WarzonePrez: I expect there to be more Lance/Allura moments as the story progresses. But forget about my writing for a moment. WTH have you been doing?_

 ** _Title Song: "Wake Me Up When September Ends" by Green Day_**

* * *

Somehow, despite all of the attacks and destruction, they had managed to preserve their control room. It boggled Keith's mind that the Arusian royal faculties had been unable to salvage their castle, but somehow kept their control room intact.

Galaxy Garrison would have never sunk so low. But then again, Galaxy Garrison had never been personally attacked by the Drules before, and certainly not by the troops from Planet Korrinoth. It was a wonder that anyone was still alive.

" _This_ is Castle Control," Allura announced proudly, sweeping her arm through the air in her full glory. "This is where we can monitor all of our defense systems, amongst other things, like intergalactic messages and perimeter scans."

"Pretty fancy," Lance whistled, getting a good view of the control room. "But where is that giant robot thingy? You know it as _Voltron_ , right?"

The princess stilled, wrapping her arms around her shoulders. "Yes, there is _that_ ," she replied tersely, "but Voltron is merely a legend now."

"That can't be possible!" Pidge replied quickly. "The bigwigs at Galaxy Garrison told us that—"

"Whatever they might have told you, they don't know for fact," Coran interjected, his tone snippy. " _They_ have not lived through what we have lived through. They know nothing first-hand, and the truth is, Voltron only exists in legend right now."

" _Right now_ does not mean _forever_ ," Sven remarked.

"Sven's right," Keith agreed. Looking over at Allura, he felt the blood rush to his head. "Princess? Can you tell us why you have Voltron in your possession, but you haven't used it against the enemy yet?"

Her green eyes shifted, turning to meet with Coran's. "There are reasons for that," she answered at length, the tone in her voice careful. "Many reasons. I'm not comfortable sharing them with the lot of you just yet." She shuddered, wrapping her slender arms around her shoulders.

Keith inhaled a frustrated breath. "But you just said—"

"I know I said that we have Voltron in our possession," she hissed, wringing her hands, "but in all honesty, we haven't got…"

"Haven't got _what_?"

"The keys."

The five space explorers shot each other skeptical sideways glances. How could they have come this far, overcome so much, and given up practically everything, only to have this mission blow up in their faces?

Sven buried his face in his hands, muttering Norwegian curses under his breath. Lance recognized some of the words, including the terms _faen_ and _min elskede_ , but decided not to push his former roommate's buttons.

Pidge removed his glasses, astonished, and wiped the lenses on the hem of his shirt. "You mean," his voice cracked as he placed them back on his face, "that we can't use Voltron because you don't have the _keys_?"

"Stupidest thing I've ever heard," Hunk mumbled under his breath.

Irritated, Coran shook his head. "Yes, that is correct," he snapped, staring down each of his five visitors and shaming them into silence. "The last reigning monarch of this planet—Allura's father, King Alfor—had ensured that the keys were safe so as not to fall into the hands of the enemy."

"A lot of good it did you!" Lance protested.

Before the castle diplomat could respond, a crash was heard, and the walls shook. They were under attack. _Again._

* * *

After the first day of classes, David Rackens walked home by himself. He met his new roommate, Jamie Gatehouse, as he was collecting mail in the lobby. There was a brown paper bag at his feet.

"Beer," the pale blond explained as he sorted through letters and bills, far more of the latter than of the former. "I figured you could use it. How was your first day of classes, anyway?"

"Er...it was interesting," the Brit replied, stooping over to look into the bag. "So I hope you got something good, not that bloody pale-ale crud that you _think_ constitutes beer."

Jamie snorted. "I refuse to take offense to that. But just so you know, I bought beer for _you_ , not for me. You owe me one." He winked, thrusting one of the envelopes into his roommate's hands. "Looks like this one's for you. Courtesy of the Garrison, natch."

David narrowed his eyes at his piece of mail. "It's a tuition statement, I'd guarantee it," he sighed. Though he'd paid off the semester in full, Galaxy Garrison never failed to remind him of how much his graduate education would cost in its entirety. "It's almost as though they want to charge me for classes I haven't even taken yet."

"Sounds like them. I wouldn't be surprised." Jamie shrugged, then hailed the elevator to take them up to their floor. "So," he added slyly, "how's that navigation chick of yours?"

David didn't want to disappoint his roommate by telling him that Morgan had seemed really, _really_ ticked off at him for some reason. "Seven hells, she's hardly _my_ navigation chick, you bloody bloke. I'm pretty sure she hates me." He ripped open the envelope.

"Why?" Jamie asked.

"I've got no idea." His grey eyes widened in surprise as he skimmed over the hand-written note. "Get this, Gatehouse: it's not from the Garrison. It's from Stacey. On Garrison paper."

"Shut the seven hells up." Jamie reached into the paper bag for a beer, which he proceeded to pop open on the mention of David's ex-girlfriend. "I have a feeling I'm gonna need this."

"Most likely." David sighed. "She eloped, Gatehouse. Stacey's married."

Much to his roommate's embarrassment, Jamie spit the beer out across the lobby. _"Married?_ To _who_?" he shrieked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "And for Pete's sake, the two of you just broke up, what, like a month ago? How did this even happen? How fast does this broad move?"

"She wrote," David informed him grimly, looking back over the note, "that she met a Garrison higher-up right after we graduated. She started a quote-unquote _business_ relationship with him, but it seemed to be taking a romantic turn. When I didn't propose, she broke up with me, found her way to him, and they decided to get married." He sighed, looking up from the paper. "She thought it was only fair that she tell me personally."

"Well, _personally_ ," Jamie huffed, "I hope I never see her ever again. Because if I do, I can't be held accountable for whatever I might say to her."

"Amen to that," David agreed. "Now let's go home. I have never needed a bloody beer more in my entire life than I do right now."

* * *

Bandor, the younger of the two Polluxian princes, had stuck by his older sister since the death of their mother. It seemed as though the whole planet was in mourning following the queen's sudden passing, and the two youngest royals were no exception. The teen walked solemnly alongside her as though he was her shadow, both of them dressed in dark colors.

The young prince was small for his fifteen years. With his short stature, red curls, aquamarine eyes, and smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, he was a miniature version of his twenty-year-old brother, Avok. Romelle, clad in a shapeless black dress and traditional lacy mourning veil, was a clone of their mother, with her slim figure, long golden hair, and milky white skin. Of all her traits, the only one she shared with her younger brother was the color of her eyes.

"I don't know what Papa is doing." Bandor broke the silence fearfully, reaching for his sister's hand and gripping hard. "Since Mama died, it's like he's lost his mind. Avok, too. I hate that they hole up late at night with the council, discussing things but not telling us what's going on."

Romelle nodded in agreement. In truth, she had no idea what her father or older brother had planned for the future of Pollux. The only thing she did know what that they'd kept her practically under lock and key since the funeral, and that her fiancé Tristan, the prince of Planet Elnor, had been purposely kept out of her contact. "I feel the same way, Bandor. What they do...it worries me. It _scares_ me." She wrung her hands anxiously. "I don't know anything."

"I wish I did."

"Me too."

"Hey...do you think I should spy on them?"

Though he'd made the statement only half in jest, Romelle's eyes widened in terror beneath her mourning veil. "Bandor, don't say such things," she hissed, purposely keeping her voice low. "You never know who's listening. Who's spying on _us._ We can't be too careful."

Truthfully, the princess didn't trust her father or her older brother. They were both power-hungry, willing and eager to do anything necessary in order to dominate...even team up with questionable forces. She could sense that they were doing that right now, perhaps selling their very souls to the devil in order to achieve what they wanted more than anything else.

Dominance over Planet Arus.

* * *

Yurak was quiet, but he stood imposingly at the helm of the bridge on his slave ship. None of his crew dared so much as glance in his direction when he was in this kind of a mood.

"Fire when ready," he commanded, his voice low and confident. "Regardless of _what_ King Zarkon may say, I don't give a care in all the hells of Ba'al if we capture those space explorers alive. I'd rather watch them die as punishment for humiliating me."

"Sir." His first officer saluted. "What shall we tell King Zarkon if we bring back five dead carcasses?"

"That they did it to themselves." Yurak's one good eye narrowed. "It wasn't _our_ fault."

"Yes, Sir. _Vrepit Sa."_ The first officer saluted knowingly. Commander Yurak had been instructed to bring five space explorers back to Doom alive, but had given them free rein to terminate their insignificant lives. Whatever happened to them was of no consequence, so long as the correct number of bodies was brought before the king.

So be it. They had their orders.

* * *

The fifteen members of the Vehicle Force stood in the hangar, eagerly awaiting orders from Commander Hawkins. They had yet to practice with their mecha, and it had been torture for them to wait until they were far into space enough to begin. But today was the big day. As soon as they were cleared, they would be forming Voltron for the first time.

Jeff was excited. Nervous, but excited.

"Hey, are you ready for this, bloke?" Cliff's voice broke the captain out of his thoughts. "Are you ready to form the subunits?"

"Nah," Jeff brushed him off. "I'm ready to form _Voltron_."

"We have to get the subunits down first," Crik reminded them. "We have to form the subunits as quickly as possible. Voltron is our last line of defense."

"Which sounds pretty stupid, if you ask me." Rocky and his thick Brooklyn accent cut into the conversation. "A couple of Cliff's guys and I think that we should just go for it. I mean, why bother with the subunits and prolong the battle when we could just cut to the Blazing Sword and be done with it?"

"As much as I want to agree with you, Rocky," Ginger chimed in, "the primary goal of our mission is to discover new worlds. The best way to explore new worlds _as a team_ is to form the subunits. So our Strato Fighter subunit does more than just fight battles—it explores the skies and makes sure they're clear."

The Brooklynite rolled his eyes. "Fancy words, comin' from _you_."

"Shut up."

"Oh, calm down, Rocky." Chip elbowed his buddy. "Ginger's absolutely right. Commander Hawkins and Captain Newley would agree."

Wolo, having graduated two years before his four immediate teammates, raised his eyebrows curiously. "I'm jealous that you all have such a camaraderie. It reminds me of when I was in the Academy and dealing with my friends. The merry band of misfits, I like to call them."

"Hmm." Chip was observant enough to know exactly who Wolo's closest friends on the stellar ship were. "Would Modoch and Shannon be a part of that group, by any chance?"

"Most bloody likely." A ghost of a grin played at the Salan's lips as he pilfered David's British vocabulary. "And how would you know that, Wee One?"

"Just a guess. I pay attention to details." The Baltan systems analyst shrugged nonchalantly.

"You're good." Wolo nodded appreciatively. "I like that in a person. And _especially_ in a teammate."

Chip beamed. "Thanks."

As the Air Team began to settle down, and Cliff and Crik returned to their own teams, Commander Hawkins' voice carried over the general comm. "All pilots, report to your mecha for launch."

"We're up!" Jeff beamed. Shooting a glance at his four teammates, Wolo included, he added, "Don't screw this up. You'll make me look bad."

Rocky guffawed, "No problem there, Chief. You do a good enough job of that yourself."

* * *

As what was left of the castle rocked from the blast, Pidge's eyes widened. "This is not good."

"No kidding, Shorty." Lance, who had been thrown to his feet, stood up, dusting himself off. "What gave it away? The fact that we were all knocked on our butts, or—"

"Can it, McClain." Keith, who somehow had held himself upright during the initial attack, glared at the cocky pilot. Then, turning his attention towards Coran, he asked, "What can we do? How can we help?"

The advisor shook his head forlornly. "There is nothing you can do." He spoke the words solemnly, resigned to the fact that Doom was, once again, on the prowl. _And,_ he added wordlessly, not wanting to make his guests feel unwelcome, _this time it's because of these five space explorers._

"I don't buy it." Pidge shook his head pointedly. "Tell you what—I'll do some reconnaissance out on the field. I can report back my findings while the rest of you try to figure out what's left of the weapons system in this joint."

"But Shorty..." Hunk protested.

"No, he's right." Keith exchanged a quick glance with Sven, who nodded in agreement. "That's the best course of action for right now. And with his background, Pidge is the best person for the job."

Allura looked terrified. "But he's so _small_!"

Pidge jumped forward towards the princess. "Not to worry, m'lady." He snatched her hand and planted a kiss on it, which eased the frightened expression on her face. "I'm a ninja. Don't worry, I really _am_ the best man for the job."

"Well then," Coran interjected, "if you're going to go out there...suit up."

"Wait a second... _what?"_ Hunk roared.

"Yeah, we don't really need new clothes," Keith protested. "We need information! We need weapons! We need Voltron!"

"We need _Voltron_!" Sven repeated, his voice thick with urgency.

"He needs to suit up." Coran ignored the pleas from the other space explorers and motioned Pidge towards the corner. "Small One, we have a cache of uniforms in that wall. Press the button to retrieve one."

Though he did technically find it unnecessary, Pidge raced to the wall in question to find the uniforms. He was a people-pleaser if nothing else. "How can I open up the cache?"

"There's a button, Small One. Press it, and it will open the stash."

"Shorty. His name is _Shorty_ ," Lance grumbled under his breath.

Being a systems analyst and therefore attuned with all things mechanical and computerized, Pidge found the button. A half-wall lifted, revealing a secret compartment housing five uniforms. _One of these has to fit me._ He fluttered through each of the garments until he found the one which might work.

Dark grey. With green trim.

 _Winner._ The systems analyst dressed himself, then saluted at his friends. "Wish me luck, guys. Don't mourn me when I'm gone."

"You're not gonna die," Keith assured him.

"No way," Lance agreed.

"Don't give me any reason to tell Chip that you're dead," Hunk added.

"Wouldn't dream of it." He saluted. "Stoker out."

As Pidge rushed out into the madness caused by Doom, Allura and Coran exchanged a glance. "I suppose we have no other option, Princess," the castle diplomat shrugged. "I believe the best course of action now is to lead the others to the subterranean levels."

"I suppose so." Allura shuddered, turning her gaze towards the floor.

Keith's heart exploded at her forlorn expression. "Princess..."

"Follow us." Coran clamped his hands onto the captain's shoulders a little too forcefully. "Down to the catacombs."

Keith's turquoise eyes widened in confusion. "To _where_?"

He had no choice. The castle diplomat ushered the rest of the team in the direction of an elevator, straight towards where the royal of Arus had been buried for the last century. In particular, one King Alfor, who had hidden the whereabouts of the Voltron Keys.

It was time to resurrect the Mighty Robot.

* * *

It didn't take a whole lot to inebriate Aidan Dalloway. Three shots in—and it didn't matter what type of alcohol it was, he drank anything set in front of him—and he was buzzing. Pain was nonexistent, especially the pain of knowing that he'd been turned down for not one but _two_ missions. The only thing that mattered was his present state of mind.

It was too bad that Clifford Jack was on the Explorer. He was the only human in existence who could control his out-of-control state, and with him not present, there wasn't a whole heck of a lot that his fellow friends-slash-family members could do to rein him in.

"Dude! Stop acting like a _jerk_!" Morgan exclaimed, smacking him lightly upside the head. "What the heck is wrong with you, anyways? If anything, _I_ should be the one drunk out of my mind, not _you_." She shot him a dirty look. "I hate school."

"Yeah, Feld? Then where's your drink?" His gaze was relentless as he shot another dart. _Almost a bulls-eye._ Had it been a pistol or any other weapon, he might have killed his opponent, or at least injured him. As it stood, he was nothing better than a teaching adjunct at the Academy, no more capable of murdering a foe than of aiming a bar projectile. "You can't hate the graduate program that much if you're not totally obliterated."

"Yeah, well, it's not the curriculum. It's my fellow classmates. One of them, specifically." Morgan threw back a shot of berry-flavored Cîroc vodka. "Whoever would've thought that my future study buddy would be David Rackens? Of all people, _David Rackens_?"

Kelly narrowed her eyes as she aimed her dart at the target. As usual, she didn't hit the bulls-eye, but she came close. _"David Rackens?_ As in, the same guy who used to beat the pants off Lance McClain every time there was a school-wide shooting contest?"

"Yeah, that's him." The navigator signalled for another vodka shot. "I didn't set my alarm correctly, so I ended up sitting next to him in class. And now we've got the same seats for the next two years! Ugh, I'm _stuck_ with that pretentious British a-hole!" She slapped her forehead with her palm.

"The lady doth protest too much." Aidan aimed another dart at the target, this one coming just shy of the center. "I think you like him."

"I think _you_ must be smoking the funny stuff."

Kelly rolled her eyes. "And _I_ think the both of you are _way_ too drunk."

"You're not too far off on that one." Morgan darted a poisonous glance at their male companion. "So where's my Wifey tonight? Doesn't she know that she should be here in my hour of need?"

"You mean, your hour of drunkenness?" Aidan taunted her.

"Dude, you are _so_ lucky I like you—"

"Oh, enough, the two of you." Lenora dropped her purse on the barstool next to Kelly. "I dash out of work early for _this_? To listen to the two of you hate on each other?" She eyed Morgan seriously. "And would you please stop bashing David? Yeah, I know that he beat Lance every time they went up against each other. But _enough_ already. Did you forget that David taught me how to shoot?"

"Whoa. He taught you how to shoot?" Kelly asked incredulously.

"He did," Lenora answered. "And we train together all the time now. He's my shooting partner. He even dumped his old partner to train with me exclusively." She removed her jacket, shaking her head. "Don't hate on David Rackens, that's all I ask."

"Wow." Aidan returned to the table, his fist still clutching his remaining darts. "And Lance is your Bro. So for you to stick up for Rackens…"

"...it means that I'm serious." Lenora picked up the bar menu. "What are you guys drinking?"

"Red Berry," Morgan answered.

"Pale ale." Kelly held up her beer bottle.

"Black Label." Aidan pointed to his empty shotglass.

"Then it looks like I'm late to the party." Lenora skimmed the drink menu. "I'll go place an order with the bartender."

"For what, Wifey?"

"It looks like a salad with salmon and a glass of wine. Cabernet, I think." The chestnut-haired beauty placed the menu back down on the table. For some reason, she thought of her two closest co-workers. "Do any of you need me to place an order while I'm up there?"

"Keep the shots coming for me and Purple over here," Aidan instructed, pointing at himself and Morgan.

Lenora lifted an eyebrow. _"Really?"_

"Really."

With a groan, Lenora moved to the bar to place her order. "You're drunk, Ace."

"Not nearly as much as you should be, Babe."

"Oh, please." She gave his ponytail an affectionate tug, then grabbed the dart from his hand. "Are you sure you should be throwing these things while you're drunk, Ace?"

"I haven't missed the dartboard yet."

Closing one eye and narrowing the other, she threw the dart expertly, much the same way she fired a bullet. It hit the dead center of the target.

With a smirk on her face, she patted his shoulder and wordlessly made her way over to the bar to place her dinner order.

"Well, I'll be damned." Aidan glanced over his shoulder at Lenora, then back at the target. The dart in the red center mocked him. "She hit the bulls-eye. As usual."

 _Just like my heart._

* * *

He was out there on his own. In the open.

Pidge wasn't kidding when he told Allura that he was the best man for the job. Out of the five of them, he was the ninja, and he was the smallest. If any one of them was going to go unnoticed throughout the destruction, it would be him.

Destruction it was. _Whoever the Drule in charge of this operation is, he's good, no doubt about that._ There were hundreds of troops in full force, razing the already-razed terrain as though they knew what they were looking for. And the young ninja was pretty sure that they were looking for him and his friends.

 _This is bad. This is really,_ _really_ _bad._

His gut twisting, Pidge reached for the comm unit that had come attached to his new uniform. _No wonder Coran had been so insistent that I suit up._

As he watched the forces of Doom raise holy terror on Arus, he could only think about his brother. What would Chip think about all of this? What would he say if he knew that his twin had gotten himself into this mess? Or, worse still, what would Lenora think if she knew that her fellow systems analyst was in the midst of such peril? She had always looked out for him back at the Academy. It would kill her to know that there was nothing she could do for him here.

"I think I'd better contact Castle Control and let them know what's going on." He spoke the words aloud only to see if he could hear his own voice amidst the din.

Pidge reached for the comm on his belt and hailed the castle. No one picked up.


	7. Goodbye

_Author's Note_ _: For those of you who don't follow Vehicle Voltron (or who haven't seen its subtitled original, "Armored Fleet Dairugger XV"), here's a little-known fact: Commander Hawkins is_ _not_ _superior to Captain Newley, as WEP suggests. In fact, it's the other way around. Newley (Asimov) is commander of the S.S. Explorer (Rugger Guard), while Hawkins (Ise) is the lead commander of the Voltron Force (Dairugger). Personally, I like to maintain the stance that, even though Hawkins is the higher-ranked of the two of them, Newley is treated as his equal. And neither one of them is the overall captain of Vehicle Voltron—that's Jeff's job._

 _BTW, I know FFN had some glitches when I posted the chapter last month. If you haven't read it, head back one before you start here. Hang on, I'll wait._

 _PS: I stole some lyrics from "All Star" by Smash Mouth and inserted them in here. Let's see who notices. :P_

 _To Kava: I love how much you love Pidge. And hold onto your hat for the end of this chapter._

 _To Susan: Pretty close! Keith was "Chief," Sven was "Quiet," Lance was "Moody," Pidge was "Shorty," and Hunk was "Hothead." And, sadly enough, no one was too keen on Allura (Fala). Cutting to Kelly dumping Modoch...yeah, she probably should. But she won't._

 ** _Title Song: "Goodbye" by Glenn Morrison ft. Islove_**

* * *

 _There weren't many people to see them off, which was the way the team of five had preferred. There were eleven others: nine from their floor, and one blood relation with his roommate, and that was it. Of course, Space Marshall Graham and Commander Steele stood back in the distance, but they allowed these sixteen graduates to have their good-byes. This was a family breaking up, after all._

 _"Jeff." Keith gripped his former roommate's hand, knowing that there was no one else he could trust with what he was about to ask. "Remember the favor I asked of you."_

 _"Of course." Jeff's serious dark eyes burned into turquoise orbs. "I promise, I'll take care of Christiane. To the best of my ability, anyway."_

 _"Thank you." The new team captain discreetly lifted his head in the direction of his ex-girlfriend. She was crying, burying her face into Sven's shoulder. "I have one more thing to ask."_

 _"What is it?"_

 _"Morgan. Makes sure she gets over me." He shook his head regretfully, then looked back at Jeff. "It was never going to work between the two of us. I've always known that, and I'm sure she has too, more or less. But make sure she moves on."_

 _Jeff shook his head. "You ask a lot, man. But I'll do my best."_

 _He looked over at his friend, the woman he always referred to as_ _Morganza_ _. She was still sobbing, clutching onto Sven for a multitude of reasons. She was sad that her fellow navigator was leaving, of course—who else was she going to chart paths with?—but she was even more heartbroken for who he was leaving behind._

 _Once the Norwegian released the dark-haired female, he turned his attentions onto her oldest friend. "_ _Elskede_ _," he whispered, his voice full of tenderness and adoration, "_ _kom til meg_ _."_

 _Not one tear was shed as Lenora did as asked, wrapping herself up in her fiancé's strong arms and resting her head against his broad chest. "I would ask you not to leave, but I suppose it's inevitable," she commented dryly, closing her eyes and inhaling. She knew she would never meet another man who smelled nearly as good as her beloved. "The sooner you leave, the sooner you come home."_

 _"The sooner I return to you." Sven's slate-blue eyes glittered, but he did not cry. "You have the chains,_ _ja_ _?"_

 _" Ja, selvfølgelig_ _." She pointed to her throat, where she wore two silver chains—one unadorned, one which carried a brand-new white-gold cross, her graduation gift from her mother. "Here, help me take them both off."_

 _Sven did as asked, fingers trembling, as she unhooked each chain. "I've gotten used to wearing this ring,_ _Elskede_ _. My finger will feel naked without it."_

 _"Then return home quickly so I can put it back on you," she shot him a sad smile, "and make things between us official."_

 _He slid his thick platinum wedding band off the fourth finger of his left hand. He suddenly wished that they had gotten married, instead of merely engaged; that they had gone to city hall and done the deed so that he had no doubt in his mind that she really was his, that he had a wife to come home to. It was too late for that now. "Where is your chain?"_

 _She held it up for him, and he slid his wedding band onto it. He watched her throat bob as she swallowed nervously, then he clasped the chain back around her neck until it was secure. His ring and her mother's cross hung perfectly above the swell of her chest._

 _"Like you said,_ _min elske_ _, it feels weird to not have this around my finger." She removed the dainty band and slid it onto his chain, securing the clasp around his neck for him. "_ _Hast hjem_ _."_

 _"That's my plan,_ _Elskede_ _." Lifting her face to him with both hands, he kissed her lips—no longer painted black—forcefully. " Jeg elsker deg."_

 _" Jeg elsker deg også_ _." She touched his ring around her neck, threading her finger through the cool platinum._

 _"I won't say good-bye,_ _Elskede_ _. Until I see you again."_

 _" Inntil jeg ser deg igjen_ _," she echoed in his native language._

 _Because his heart would break if he looked at his chestnut-haired fiancée any further, he turned away from her and headed towards the small, slow ship which was the only one that the Garrison could supposedly spare. It seemed like a cold, heartless act, but in reality, it was the only thing he could do to preserve his sanity._

 _Hunk, having already said his good-byes, was onboard, checking out the schematics. As the team's engineer, he wanted to know everything about his ship before they took off. "So, how did it go?" he asked carefully. "How did you do?"_

 _"I don't know,_ _min venn_ _. I did it. Somehow." He sat down in front of the prehistoric keyboard and began to key in some coordinates. They would have to take a much-longer route to Arus than anticipated; between the ship's slow pace and minimum weaponry, he'd needed to chart out a path that would avoid areas of conflict and zones of heavy traffic._

 _"I wanna know, Sven...what did it take to leave her?"_

 _The Norwegian closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I reminded myself, over and over and over again, that the next time I see her, she will be mine forever. And I will never let her go. We will never be separated again."_

* * *

Commander Hawkins sat in position on the bridge of the Explorer, trying to remember the new faces onboard. He remembered the old-timers, of course. Tech Sargeant Sparks with his flaming red crop of hair. Tech Sargeant Darek, all blond locks and big round glasses. Navigator Goldman, dark and square-featured. But everyone else? He would have to work his mind to remember their names and positions.

No time for that now. The Voltron Vehicle Force was about to blast off for the first time, ready to form the three subunits. If all went well, then maybe, just _maybe_ , they would form the mighty robot. His hopes weren't that high, but he was optimistic that the team could at least aim to form the Aqua Fighter, Turbo Terrain Fighter, and Strato Fighter properly in the first few go-rounds.

"Jon, you look terrified."

There was only one person on the bridge who would dare call him by his first name. "I'm not terrified, Rich. Though I _am_ supremely skeptical that the team will be able to form Voltron today."

"Ha! Looking at the dark side of things, as usual." Captain Newley sat down at his spot on the bridge, shooting his longtime friend a taunting expression.

"Shut up."

"Ooh, you're scaring me."

Darek lifted his head in the direction of their exchange, but said nothing. "Eh, this is the norm, coming from them," Sparks reminded him before turning his attentions back to his own computer monitor. "Pay them no mind."

Hawkins overheard their exchange, but chose to ignore it. "Regardless, Rich, I don't particularly care about whether or not they form Voltron today. I'm more interested to see how they function as a unit. As a team. Under Aki, specifically."

"But you just said that you don't think they'll form Voltron today," Newley pointed out. "Why are you so concerned about how Aki will handle a team of fifteen if you're not even sure if the kids can handle the subunits?"

The commander closed his eyes, as if deep in thought, before replying. "I have a gut feeling about Aki. He reminds me of me."

"Jesus H. Christ, then we're all in trouble."

A few snickers and titters broke out from the bridge crew, which their superiors did not acknowledge. "Be that as it may, Rich, but I am particularly interested to see how Aki manages as team captain. Call it a hunch. If nothing else, this first practice will show me how he will act in his position...and then _I_ will be able to manage him appropriately."

Newley rolled his eyes. "Where in the universe is this coming from? Did this sudden softness of character come from your Uncle Jacob?"

Hawkins nearly choked on a laugh as he replied, "You leave your future husband out of this."

Catching the reference to his drunken remarks at Cipriani, Newley threw up his hands in disgust and left the bridge.

* * *

Allura was terrified, he knew that much. Which was what made the cocky flyboy adore her.

"Hey, Princess, it's okay," he reassured her, patting her back. "Pidge is a ninja. If anybody's gonna get through this mess intact, it's gonna be him."

She shivered beneath his touch. "I don't know, Lance. The lot of you keep saying that, but I don't believe it. I don't know you—I don't know _him_ —well enough. But I _do_ know the forces of Doom better than I'd like to."

"Yeah. Unfortunately." As a wave of sympathy washed over him, Lance wondered why he felt so strongly for the girl. It wasn't romantic, that was for sure—he was too entranced by a certain young woman with sky-blue eyes and a halo of perfect blond curls to be feeling anything like that for Allura. _Hey, I wonder which one of us here is gonna be stupid enough to fall in love with the princess. It won't be me, and it definitely won't be the Viking. Pidge might have a dumb crush, but he'll never take it any further, and Hunk will pit every woman he ever meets against Cinda for the rest of his life._

His gaze rested on Keith's mullet, the long blue-black locks spilling over his shoulders. _Yeah,_ he thought _. It'll be him. Crankypants'll be all duty-and-honor with her, but he'll fall in love with her anyways, no question about it._

He gazed at the back of Keith's head again. _Dummy._ He wished he could read the rest of this crazy situation nearly half as well as he could his team captain.

The rest of the trip to the catacombs was wordless. The only noises heard as Coran led them deeper and deeper through the complex maze of tunnels was the drip of water and creaks from the crumbling structures. The entire castle was falling apart; the advisor and diplomat had no idea how much time was left before it came tumbling down, taking all of their lives with it.

Which was the reason they were headed to the catacombs. He had a feeling that their dead king would have an answer.

* * *

Much unlike the previous day's class, Morgan headed to the lecture hall early. She was so early, she was the first person to arrive, even beating out Instructor Haddley. _Hmph. It's too bad I couldn't have gotten here this early_ _yesterday_ _._

The night before, she had promised Lenora that she wouldn't bash David Rackens. If her Wifey vouched for him and insisted that he was a good guy, then there had to be some redeeming quality about him. But she hadn't seen it. Personally, the navigator found her classmate to be pretentious and full of himself.

 _Even if his accent_ _is_ _sorta cute._

With her ionic notepad in her lap, Morgan scrolled through her notes from the day before. Students began to trickle into the classroom, chatting away and pulling out their own study materials, waiting for the lecture to begin. She tried not to notice when the tall Brit came up to his seat and sat down beside her.

"Good morning, Morgan." He settled into his chair and pulled out his tablet. "You're here early."

"Barring yesterday, I'm _always_ early, you jerk." Immediately, she dropped her notepad onto her lap and clapped her hands over her mouth as he looked over at her, equal parts amused and taken aback. "I'm sorry. I promised Len that I wouldn't bash you."

His eyebrows furrowed. _"Len?_ As in, Lenora Stensson? The best female gunner in the Space Academy's most recent graduating class?"

"The same."

"How do you know Len?"

"She's my Wifey."

"Hmm." He looked supremely confused. "I thought she had a boyfriend. A rather serious one, in fact."

"She _does_. They're engaged to be married, if you must know. But I'm her Wifey. We were roommates at the Academy practically forever. This is the first time we haven't lived under the same roof in all of the years we've known each other."

"Well. That's... _interesting_. _"_

She stuck her tongue out at him. "By the way, the only reason I'm being nice to you is because she asked me to."

"Well, if this is what you call being nice to me, I'd hate to see how you treat people you _don't_ like."

There was a cruel retort on the tip of her tongue. Though she wanted to verbally lash out at him, she held it in. Because she'd promised Lenora that she would, and by the gods, she would hold good to that promise for at least _one_ day. She dug her nails into her palms and bit the inside of her cheeks in an attempt to quash the words that had risen in her throat.

Maybe tomorrow, she would tell him. But not today.

* * *

Damian Thibeault stood at the helm of his ship, the S.S. Rand, ready to close up shop for the evening and get some sleep. The night crew had already started their shift, and the commander had begun the last of his managerial duties before he could punch out.

"Commander," his systems analyst, Tech Sargeant Kieran Izumo, piped up, "before you retire for the evening, you need to know that I've picked up something on the long-range scanners. It looks like a slave ship." He frowned. "Drule."

"How long has it been in sight?" the commander asked, careful to keep the alarm out of his voice.

"It just showed up within the last thirty seconds, Sir."

"I see." Commander Thibeault laced his fingers together. "Keep an eye on it, Tech Sargeant. And as of right now, there will be no further position changes. I want everyone to stay right where he is until further notice."

"Of course, Sir."

The commander learned back and stared at the screen ahead. Being in the Far Universe—and within the confines of Drule territory—he shouldn't have been surprised that they were in this situation. He could only hope that they would stay off the slave ship's radar long enough to pass through.

* * *

Coran finally stopped his entourage in front of a large marble door. "We are here."

"'Bout time," Lance cracked. Sven glared at him, but didn't whack him upside the back of the head as he normally would.

Keith watched the exchange with disinterest, then turned his gaze over to Allura. _How is she holding up?_ he wondered. _She looks like she's been through the wringer already. How will she ever deal with being by her parents' tombs?_

He had a feeling that she was tougher than she let on.

"Well then," Allura announced impatiently, "let's go in."

"Of course, Princess." Coran waved his torch ahead of him, allowing Allura to enter the sacred burial room first.

The team followed the princess into the darkened room, lit only by the light of their torches. Two coffins, side by side, sat forlornly at the top of a dais. Allura fell to her knees before them, clasping her hands together in prayer, but she did not cry. Coran stood behind her, head bowed reverently, while the four remaining space explorers stood back and watched. Even Lance had enough good sense not to open his mouth and disturb the moment.

Finally, Coran lifted his gaze to the two coffins. "Your Majesties, please forgive our intrusion. You know we would not bother you if the situation hadn't been so dire."

"Who's he talking to?" Hunk inquired under his breath.

"Please, Your Majesties, I beg your forgiveness, but we are in our hour of need."

The catacombs remained silent. Sven and Keith exchanged worried glances while Lance scratched his head, trying his best to avoid any snarky expressions that would warrant a thwack to the base of his skull from a certain Viking. Allura remained on her knees, her gaze fixed on the ground, while Coran implored aid from the deceased king and queen.

Had they not been so desperate, it might have been comical. _Might._

Coran's eyes and expression grew wild. " _Please_ , Your Majesties! I beg of you!"

Nothing. An eerie silence swept over the catacombs, and the castle diplomat's eyes filled with unshed tears. He dropped to his knees next to the princess, choking on his sobs.

"Well, what was he expecting?" Lance muttered under his breath. "We're in the catacombs. What, does he want them to rise from the grave?"

"I'd smack you for that, _min venn_ ," Sven grimaced, "but you're right. _Helvete."_

"Agreed," Keith added. "The dead don't come back to life, not even if you beg them." _Because,_ he added silently, _if they could, Christy and I would have been the first ones to bring our parents back._

He wasn't sure whether or not Allura heard him. All he knew was that the princess lifted herself up from off her knees, dusting her tattered pink skirts and raising her chin defiantly towards the two coffins. "Mother. Father. We have found the ones we have sought. The ones who will fly Voltron. We need the keys."

Before the four Garrison pilots could scoff at her, something... _happened._

* * *

With the fifteen Voltron mecha officially in the air, Jeff separated his four immediate comrades to practice forming the Strato Fighter. It was an intricate process—though, really, the same could be said for forming any of the three subunits—and the captain was a perfectionist. He wanted his team to get it down pat on the first try.

 _Yeah, but there are five of us responsible. I'm pretty sure Wolo will do well, and probably Chip, too. As for Rocky and Ginger...well…_

Perhaps it was unfair of him, but Jeff couldn't help but pre-judge his teammates. While he didn't know Wolo very well, having graduated two years prior to the rest of them, he seemed to have more faith in the Salan simply because he was a little older. The young Baltan was a technological genius and an expert pilot, so he had every confidence in Chip. But he didn't have as much confidence in Rocky and Ginger. The Brooklynite because, despite his strength and sheer size, he was prone to picking fights and being too thick-headed to think things through. And the lovely blond Texan because…

 _Because anyone who loves Lance McClain_ _that_ _much cannot be the sharpest tool in the shed._

That was the worst of it. Jeff hated himself for feeling that way. He loved that arrogant pilot, too—heck, he'd spent enough time sleeping on the floor of his dorm room in his beanbag chair to know. And he'd even claimed that stupid red beanbag chair for his own and taken it with him on the Explorer! _But I've never loved him_ _that_ _way. Any girl who's closed the deal with Lance McClain can't possibly be smart._

Shaking off his doubts and prejudices, Jeff opened the comm to his four teammates. "Kreuz! Stoker! Shinobu! Ellington! Are we ready to form the Strato Fighter?"

"Yes, Sir!" four voices pitched in.

"All right, then let's do it. Form Strato Fighter!"

All in all, he'd expected worse, but the five of them were directly on target. Though it was only their first practice, each one of them clicked their vehicles—Rocky's Strato Weapons Module, Chip's and Wolo's Advanced Recon Helicopters, Ginger's Falcon VT Fighter, and Jeff's Command Jet Explorer—into proper position. They were a little slow on the draw, but they did it properly.

"Not bad, guys!" Jeff grinned from his cockpit. "Not bad at all! Could be a little faster, but for our first try, I'd say we smoked it!"

 _Even Rocky and Ginger._

He was proud of his immediate team, and a little disappointed in himself at doubting his two fellow Academy classmates. And he was sure that Commander Hawkins was watching, probably just as proud as he was.

And maybe, somewhere, Lance McClain was proud of Ginger, too.

* * *

The swirling lights coming together above the caskets scared the living daylights out of the four space explorers. Allura did not seem surprised as she continued to hold her head high, her gaze trained on the space atop the dais.

"Princess! They heard you!" Coran squeaked, lifting his eyes from off the floor. "The spirits are awakening!"

"Sweet baby Buddha, I'm outta here," Lance quipped. "Or at least, I _would_ be if I hadn't just pooped my pants."

The unspoken consensus was the same amongst his three fellow teammates.

The light swirled to a stop, forming the figure of a man. A statuesque man, regal in his attire and his posture, his long brown hair flowing behind him until it came to rest atop his shoulders. His eyes glowed an eerie, ethereal aquamarine, hollow orbs with no pupils. "My daughter. Why have you summoned me from my eternal slumber?"

"I'm with McClain," Hunk shook. "I just pooped myself."

Allura ignored them. She ignored everyone in the room, save the deceased king's spirit. "Thank you for coming to my aid, Father. We have found them—we have found the five who will pilot Voltron and rescue our planet from destruction."

The king's ghost blinked, his pupils never coming into view. His eyes were two beams of aquamarine light. "You need the keys," he surmised.

"Yes."

"The keys are with me."

Coran gasped, but Allura paid him no attention. "Only with you? Or are they scattered amongst you, Mother, and Allistaire?"

"No. The keys are with _me_."

"When a dead man says something," Sven muttered under his breath, "I would sure as _helvete_ take his word for it."

"Thank you, Father." It was only then that the princess began to break down; her eyes shone with tears, but she did not cry. "You may rest easy now."

"Restore our planet to glory, my darling. I love you."

The king's ghost disappeared as quickly as it had come before them. His image disassembled, breaking down into pastel-colored lights before dissolving into blackness. And Allura stood before his casket and her mother's, trembling and finally allowing those tears to spill forth from her eyes.

"Good-bye, Father. I love you, too."

* * *

The Vehicle Team had practiced enough for one day. As the fifteen mecha returned to their proper places within the cargo bay of the Explorer, the three team leaders each corralled their respective members for a quick briefing. Ginger stood between Rocky and Wolo as Jeff delivered his observations from practice.

"Okay, guys, you did pretty good overall, but I still think we could be tighter. Faster, too," the team captain informed them. "And we didn't get to form Voltron today. I need to talk things over with Cliff and Crik, see how their teams did. I'd like to form Voltron at our next group practice."

"Captain Aki, if I may?" Wolo interrupted.

"Go ahead, Kreuz."

"I think you're expecting way too much." The Salan shook his head. "This was our first practice. I say we did well, all things considered. _Very_ well."

Ginger looked up at him, stunned. No one had ever crossed Jeff—well, no one except Chloe Sommers and Chad Nickerson, anyway. His temper had been legendary around the Academy. She was surprised that Wolo hadn't heard about it.

Somehow, Jeff kept his cool. "I never said that we didn't do well as a subunit. I said that we could've done better. There's a difference."

"Hey, he didn't blow his top," Rocky whispered to Chip.

The Salan shrugged in reply. "As long as you don't think we did poorly today. I won't stand for it if you think otherwise."

 _Oof, that's ballsy,_ Ginger thought, partially dismayed and mostly impressed. Very few people on their floor had ever stood up to Jeff. Morgan. Keith. Sven. Lance.

 _Lance._ She shook his image out of her mind. He wasn't there with her—with _them—_ anymore. He probably didn't love her anymore, either. _That is, if he even loved me to begin with._

Maybe it was the fact that Wolo was older that Jeff didn't blow up. He held his temper in check, which the rest of his teammates knew was an enormous feat in and of itself. "No. I think we did good. But I think that next time, we can do even better. And we _should_."

The purple-skinned Air Team member seemed satisfied with that response. "Right on, then. Now, if you don't mind, Captain, may we be excused? I'm exhausted, and I'd like to get some food and go to bed."

Jeff nodded. "You certainly may. Good job, Team." He saluted them. "Great work."

They saluted back, and then Wolo exited the hangar, followed by Rocky and Chip. Only Ginger stood there, arms crossed, staring back at Jeff and smacking her red lips together. _What in blazes are you doing, girl? It's not like Jeff's got anything else to say to you._

He seemed to be reading her thoughts. "What's on your mind, Ellington?"

She shook her head. "I'm not even sure, Chief. Maybe I'm overwhelmed by everything that just happened." Once the words were out of her mouth, they flowed as if they couldn't stop. "I mean, we're the Voltron Force! Do you understand what an honor that is? Out of hundreds—maybe _thousands_ —of people who could've gotten the positions, _we_ got it. _We_ got the job." She shrugged. "Yeah, I'm definitely overwhelmed. But in the best way."

Just then, he grinned, and she couldn't help but note how boyishly handsome he was. "Thanks for that," he replied. "You make me remember that it's not just a huge responsibility to be captain of the Voltron Force. It's an honor and a privilege, too."

"It is."

"Shut up, Lemon Drop." He linked his arm through hers, dragging her out of the hangar. "Come on, I'm starving. Let's see what Sammy's cooked up in the cafeteria."

"Um, okay. But if you call me _Lemon Drop_ again, I'm gonna have to smack you." She winked. "You've been warned."

He shrugged her words off. "Yeah, yeah, yeah."

She nearly blushed, walking down the corridors of the Explorer arm-in-arm with her new team captain. No, Jeffrey Aki was not Lance McClain, and he never would be. But _maybe_ he was someone who could fill the void, soothe the ache, and make her forget.

Not the she wanted to forget Lance. She didn't. But she didn't want to hurt anymore, either.

* * *

The slave ship hadn't made any sudden or predatory moves, but it was still inching closer on the monitor. Too close for Damian Thibeault's liking.

"Reverse thrusters," the commander ordered, wisely choosing to take his crew and his ship out of this precarious situation. "Put as much distance between us and this slave ship as possible."

"Aye aye, Sir." Tech Sargeant Izumo initiated the reverse, and his fellow crew members followed suit. The S.S. Rand halted its forward motion, crawling backwards to retrace their path.

The Drule ship sensed their retreat. It picked up speed, charging after them at an alarming rate. Commander Thibeault's eyes widened in horror as the inevitability of what was about to happen dawned on him. "Kieran!"

Tech Sargeant Izumo looked up, alarmed at the fact that the commander had used his first name. "Yes, Sir?"

"Prepare the black boxes." Thibeault looked grim. "Make sure that the Galaxy Garrison get an exact transmission of what is about to happen."

His words scared the life out of the crew. If their commander was panicked, it could mean only one thing: they were about to be captured by the Drule slave ship. One of the ten planets belonging to Drule High Command was preparing to take them prisoner.

The Rand was a good ship, fitted with the latest in exploratory technology, but it was a small one. They didn't have the speed or the weaponry necessary to take down or outrun an enemy of this caliber. If their opponents were determined to take them at any cost, then they would lose. They would become prisoners of war, with or without a fight.

The slave ship's flanks opened, and dozens of smaller fighter ships pelted out the sides, charging right at them. Commander Thibeault's face went pale. "Those Drule basta-"

He couldn't finish his sentence. The Rand was inundated with blasts from the Drule fighter ships, and then everything went black.


	8. Born To Rise

_Author's Note_ _: I hate the Space Mice. Seriously. Is that bad? Well, if it is, then I've committed a mortal sin in the Voltron Universe—I like to ignore that they exist (for the most part, anyway)._

 _To Kava: Your alternate title struck me so funny. I laughed so hard that I almost crapped MY pants._

 _To Emie Mac: David has a habit of growing on you, doesn't he? Now, we all know where his love life is heading, but we still have the issue of his ex-girlfriend to deal with before we get there._

 _To sunshineleo: Hooray! It's good to hear from you. Thank goodness it's summer vacation! Now, is it Columbus Day Weekend yet?_

 _To Susan: I really, REALLY need to get that short story written so you can see exactly what goes down between Kelly & Modoch. It's kinda epic._

 _To WarzonePrez: The future GV Force isn't exactly acting like the GV Force, eh? No wonder Aidan was turned down as captain of Vehicle Voltron!_

 ** _Title Song: "Born to Rise" by Redlight King_**

* * *

"Nice work, Cadet Neumann!"

Kelly was getting used to her new position as a teaching assistant at the Space Academy. Specifically, she had applied for _—_ and gotten _—_ the job with the DFNS101 students. The first-years were eager to handle their weapons, but they had to start off with the basics.

The department head who'd been at the helm of Defense for nearly forty years, Instructor Harrison, still enjoyed teaching the brand-new students at the beginning of each school year. He'd paired the cadets up and left for his office, placing Kelly in charge of the sparring exercises. She didn't mind. She was good at that kind of stuff; she and Cliff had been partners for karate as well as dancing.

 _Yeah, just wait 'til these kids get to second year and have to learn how to tango._ She rolled her eyes as she thought about how she'd learned how to master several dance routines on account of her Garrison education. _Why does_ _anyone_ _have to learn any of those stupid dances? On the off chance that maybe, when you're a hundred years old and at some sort of War Games gala, you won't make a fool out of yourself on the dance floor?_

On the bright side, she had met her boyfriend, Modoch, taking one of those dance courses. She supposed she should at least be grateful for something about the school curriculum.

The crash caught her attention. One of the first-years, a cadet by the name of Jared Milton, had accidentally fired his pistol.

 _Yeah, accidentally on purpose. He kinda reminds me of Lance._ "Cadet Milton! What are you doing over there?"

Sheepishly, the student dropped his pistol and saluted. "Sorry, Sargeant Asimov."

"You should be. You could have seriously hurt yourself. Or someone else." With the rest of the class watching, Kelly walked over to the cadet and retrieved his pistol from the floor. She blew on it before handing it back to him. "I'd send you to the remedial class if this _wasn't_ the remedial class. Be more careful."

"Yes, Ma'am."

 _Ma'am. I'm old enough to be a ma'am now._ She didn't bother to respond as she walked back to her spot by the sidelines, trying not to feel washed-up and forgotten.

* * *

The Doom troops were doing a thorough job of razing whatever was left of the Arusian soil. Pidge watched helplessly as the ground was torn up. Anything that was left _—_ greenery, shrubbery, even dirt _—_ was reduced to nothing but flames.

 _They want us so bad that they're willing to waste good ammunition just to burn this planet down._ The little Baltan shivered at such a sobering, chilling thought. But it was true. King Zarkon would spare nothing _—_ and no one _—_ to ensure that he recaptured the five space explorers who had humiliated him.

He had to get back to the was no other choice. No one was picking up in the control room, and he needed to report his findings so that the princess could be prepared. Not that there was much to defend, but he knew that Allura would prefer to go down fighting rather than cowering.

Question was, how to get back to the castle unnoticed?

He didn't have time to think. The blast came precariously close to his stony perch, crumbling the rocks and sending him tumbling to the ground.

* * *

Jeff raced towards the bridge, panicked. Everyone had heard Commander Hawkins call his name over the Explorer's general comm. _Everyone._ He was either being praised for his leadership skills at practice, or he was going to be reprimanded beyond the depths of his comprehension.

Somehow, he had a bad feeling that it _wasn't_ the first option.

The doors slid open, and Jeff scurried onto the bridge. Commander Hawkins and Captain Newley stood at the helm, looking over their interstellar map and plotting a course as to where to go next. The commander looked up. "Ah. Captain Aki. You've made it."

Jeff saluted hastily. "Commander Hawkins. You wanted to see me, Sir?"

Newley shook his head. "Oh boy, _this_ ought to be good."

"Yes, actually, I did." The commander ignored the Explorer's captain and stood up from his post at the helm of the ship. "Perhaps we should speak in private. Follow me."

Captain Newley shot them both an obvious dirty look, mostly because he was keen to hear exactly what was about to go down and was now out of the loop, but he held his tongue and, to his credit, did not follow them off the bridge.

Jeff trailed behind the commander, just steps down the hallway and to the first room on the right. Hawkins keyed in the passcode and the door slid open. "This way, Captain. After you."

The private chambers took his breath away. The mahogany wooden cabinetry, the lush leather chairs...the room looked like a proper eighteenth-century study. "Wow, Sir. Whose quarters are these?"

The commander slid the door shut behind them before taking his seat behind the large polished-wood desk. "Mine."

 _Duh._ "This place is spectacular, Sir."

"Thank you." Hawkins motioned for him to sit down, and Jeff claimed one of the opulent leather chairs as his own. "Now, I presume you're wondering why I called you in here. I know Rich Newley is."

Jeff nodded.

"As you know, you are the overall captain of Vehicle Voltron as well as the captain of the Air Team," the commander continued. "Just as Captain Newley is my second-in-command, _you_ need to have a second-in command. Preferably, you would choose between Captain Jack and Captain Keats." He raised an eyebrow. "Normally, I would decide which captain would best fit the position, but for some reason, I trust you. You know your own men better than I do."

Silence followed. Jeff couldn't speak. "Wait a moment...you trust me to pick my own second-in-command, Sir?"

Hawkins looked somewhere between aggravated and amused. "Did I stutter?"

Jeff sat dumbfounded for a moment. The commander wanted him to pick his own second. _Him!_ Was he even capable of such a huge decision? And then there was the choice between either Cliff or Crik. It should have been an obvious one _—_ after all, the blond Aussie had lived on the same floor with him for the past five years. They were family.

But the Land Team captain's allegiance had always been to Aidan and, to a lesser extent, Lance. He and Cliff hadn't been the closest of friends and had run around in different circles during their five years at the Academy. How could Jeff automatically choose him over Crik, especially when he'd barely gotten to know the intuitive Miran?

Finally, he replied, "Sir, I'd like some time to think it over."

"Of course." Commander Hawkins nodded, then stood up to signal that their meeting was over. "Let me know once you've reached a decision so I can notify Galaxy Garrison."

"I will."

"Excellent." As the commander escorted Jeff out of his chambers, he added, "And you did very well out there today, Captain Aki. Keep doing what you're doing, and the Voltron Force will only improve."

"Thank you, Sir."

After Hawkins closed up behind him, he laid against the door and rested his head against the cool steel. As far as first weeks in outer space went, this one hadn't been bad at all. But right now, he could really, _really_ use a drink.

* * *

Once Alfor's spirit had disappeared and Allura had wiped her tears away, the unlikely group encircled the deceased king's open tomb, dropping to their knees and folding their hands in prayer. Keith, expertly positioning himself to the side of the princess, unwittingly found his own eyes closing in reverence. _Please keep us safe. Please provide the keys._

"Hey! Look at the keys!" Hunk's voice interrupted the sacred silence. "Five keys for five lions."

"One for each of us," Lance murmured under his breath, his voice filled with awe.

In normal times, under ordinary conditions, Coran would have been considerably vexed. It would have been outrageous for some commoner to defile their prayer with his voice, regardless of the reason. However, these were not normal times. _Thank the gods that Nanny isn't around to bear witness._

"The keys are all here." The advisor breathed a sigh of relief. "But you can't form Voltron. Not with four lions."

"No, not without Pidge," Keith agreed. "But we'll go anyway."

"Right," Sven echoed.

Allura's green eyes widened in shock. "You can't possibly be serious. You've never taken the Lions out before. You've never even _seen_ them before. And without Pidge, you won't be able to form Voltron." She shuddered. "Do you still want to go?"

"Sooner rather than later," Keith replied firmly.

The princess and her advisor exchanged glances. Were these boys serious? Yes, yes they were. Were they suicidal? Most definitely. But they were determined to get out there and fight for Arus until their last breaths, and as it stood, she was hardly in a position to say no.

"Then go." Spreading her hands over the casket, she gave them her blessing. "But return safely, all of you."

"Thank you, Princess." Keith reached down and picked up the key closest to the embalmed king's head, which he assumed had to be the key to the main lion. "Don't worry, we'll take care of this mess."

Sven, Lance and Hunk each reached for the key closest to them. They had no idea which lion they would get, but they supposed it didn't matter, just so long as they were out in battle.

Allura picked up the last key and wrapped her fingers around it. "I will hold onto this for safekeeping," she informed the team captain, "until either Pidge comes back, or you do."

Keith nodded, then stood up from the casket. "Understood. Now, Coran, if you would be so kind as to lead us back to Castle Control so we can take matters into our own hands..."

The advisor nodded. This was nerve-wracking, but if anything could finally bring the bombings and firings from Doom to an end, it would be Voltron. "Follow me. Quickly."

Allura closed the lid on her father's casket as the space explorers followed Coran out of the catacombs. Then, turning to face her parents in their eternal slumber, she blew them a kiss before following the rest of her new team.

* * *

When Pidge's vision came back to normal, he was surprised to see that he was surrounded by a swarm of villagers. Men, women, and children had all come to observe him. The small systems analyst was only surprised for about a half second. After all, to them, _he_ was the alien.

"Um...hello?" he asked. His greeting was met with silence, so he continued. "Okay, I know I'm the new guy around here. But what's the new guy gotta do to get back to the castle?"

A tall man, seemingly the leader of the group, looked over his shoulder at someone else. The older man with the greying hair and the beard simply nodded and turned his gaze back to Pidge. Wordlessly, the tall man motioned for the systems analyst to follow him.

 _Geez, they're not so friendly or talkative around these parts._ Not that he cared, of course. Anything was better than being shot at by Doom's ground troops. And he had to get back to the castle. The princess and Coran needed the information.

And for some reason, he knew that his team needed him.

* * *

There was always so much work to do for the High Command, and admittedly, much of it was nonsense. She was sure that Space Marshall Graham knew that, but he wasn't about to say anything. Not when the council disagreed with at least half of everything he said. Things were tough enough without stirring up discord.

In her messenger bag _—_ the same messenger bag she'd carried throughout her five years at the Space Academy _—_ Lieutenant Stensson carted multiple discs and files. Though she was the last one hired by the Space Marshall, she spent more time with him than anyone else, running personal errands for him as well as performing hours and hours of discussion and prep work. Slowly, she was beginning to understand Galaxy Garrison as a whole, as an _entity_ , and not just as different branches of the same system.

She wasn't sure if Graham had done that on purpose, but he had, and he continued to do so. But she _was_ sure that she knew more about the inner workings of the Garrison _—_ and, by default, of the Galaxy Alliance _—_ than most of her colleagues and superiors.

With a secret knock on the door, she was buzzed into his office. _So many secret knocks and handshakes. The floor, the Analysis department, Graham's office…_

"Come in."

She opened the door and slid into the office. "Space Marshall," she greeted him with a salute. "I have the latest report from the S.S. Rand."

"Oh?" He appeared mildly interested.

Her brows knitted together, and she frowned. "We've received a transmission from the ship's black boxes, Sir. The Rand was taken captive at approximately 0200 hours Galactic Standard Time."

Graham's face fell. "Thibeault and his entire crew?"

"Unfortunately." Reaching into her messenger bag, the lieutenant retrieved the disc upon which she had transcribed the fallen ship's black boxes. "You can read more here. We know the Rand was captured by a Drule slave ship, but we have no idea which planet is responsible."

The Space Marshall rubbed his eyes. "They never stop, do they? Those Drules won't be satisfied until they've captured every last one of us and taken charge of the universe."

"It certainly seems that way, Sir." She shivered.

He leaned back in his chair. Graham hated this part; having to gather the names of the abducted crew members and alert their next of kin. It was dirty work which, unsurprisingly, elicited anger, sadness, frustration, and other unpleasant emotions. Most often directed at him. "This is the worst part of my job."

She nodded. "I understand."

He expected her to salute and escort herself out, but instead, she stood in front of his desk, watching him. Any other of his staff would have left by now, leaving him to tackle the emotionally devastating task himself. Yet she stayed with him, waiting for his next movement, learning from the situation and drinking it in. It reminded him of why he had chosen her for this position in the first place.

"Lieutenant Stensson?"

"Yes, Sir?"

He cleared his throat. "You're about to write your first POW letter to the Rand's next-of-kin. Watch and learn."

* * *

Yurak sat at the helm of the bridge on his command ship, overseeing the ground forces in their destruction of that wretched planet. It felt... _good._

The commander had always been at the top of his field, the top of his game. It was why he had lasted so long under Zarkon's reign. Korrinoth's king had seen what he was capable of and had not only rewarded him for it, but had placed his trust in him. That trust was worth more than any amount of money, any gold, any woman...anything, really.

"Sir," his first mate shot out, "we have incoming."

"Oh?" Yurak raised his head. "Bring it up."

The first mate brought an image up to the screen. At first, there was nothing more to see than a tremendous dust cloud. Before the commander could open his mouth to elicit a sarcastic comment, eight searing yellow lights pierced through the shadows.

Yurak banged his fists on the console in front of him. "And what in the name of Ba'al is _this_?"

Whatever it was, it looked like a pack of lions. Robot lions. _Voltron's_ _lions._ He felt a sense of... _something_...rise up in him. Something he had never felt before in his entire career.

Fear.

* * *

 _This is insane._

From behind the controls of Black Lion, Keith _—_ dressed in his new black-and-grey uniform _—_ charged at the head of the pack towards the Doom slave ship. With the Red, Blue, and Yellow Lions behind him, he was sure that the four ancient mechanical feline ships could take down whoever was in charge of this assault. "Team! Are you all ready for this?"

"As ready as we can be, _min venn_ ," Sven replied from Blue Lion.

"Er...maybe?" Hunk answered sheepishly from Yellow Lion.

"Woot woot! I was _born_ for this!" Lance, at the helm of Red Lion, was more enthusiastic than all of them. Unsurprisingly.

"Good." Keith didn't feel at all like he was ready _—_ like _any_ of them were ready _—_ for what laid ahead, but he didn't want his friends to know how nervous and worried he was. He wanted to portray the confident leader that he knew he should be and that they deserved. If they were going to go out like this together, if it was the last thing they ever did before they met their demise, then he at least wanted them to believe that he had faith and conviction in his role and in himself. "I have a plan."

"Well, _that's_ good news," Sven chirped sarcastically. "Do you plan on telling us what it is, or would you prefer to keep us in the dark?"

"Nah. I always preferred the idea of _shoot first and ask questions later_ ," Lance quipped.

"And is anyone here surprised that Lance got called to Graham's office more often than all of us put together?" Hunk joked to hide his terror.

"Enough." The team captain gripped his controls hard enough to make his knuckles blanch. "Pidge is the systems analyst of this group, but he's not here. Hunk, do you know enough analysis to find out where the main power supply of the command ship is?"

"I might know a thing or two about analysis," the large engineer responded.

"Excellent. Find the command ship's power supply, and the three of us will cover you. Then we'll take it out. Without their leader, the rest of the forces will either retreat or crumble." _I hope._

"Well, _that's_ a half-baked plan if I've ever heard one," Lance cracked.

"And if you have a better one, McClain," Sven snarled, "we're all dying to hear it."

Silence. The only sounds heard in any of their cabins were those of ammunition being fired. "Then we'll do what we have to do," Keith decided. "Let's go, team!"

As Hunk fired up his computer _—Amazing how this thing works, like it_ _knows_ _me—_ his three teammates began an assault of ammunition against their enemy. No one was quite sure how, since they had only stepped foot in their lions mere moments ago, but their weaponry seemed to be in touch with their thoughts. Which, in a case as dire as this, was a very good thing.

* * *

Prince Avok should have felt guilty every time he retired to his chambers for the evening, as he needed to pass by Romelle's room to get to his own. Especially since he knew his sister's fate and kept his mouth shut.

 _Should have_ , but never did.

Little did his sister know, their father had effectively torn her engagement to Tristan of Planet Elnor apart. "I never liked the boy anyway," Cova had scoffed as he made the decision. "He was too soft to be the heir to the throne. Romelle will be better served _—_ and will serve Pollux better _—_ by pledging herself to someone else. Someone stronger, someone more powerful."

 _She still thinks she's going to marry that poor excuse for a prince,_ he thought to himself, smirking at the idea. Gods, his sister was stupid. There was no way that he and his father would let her run off to pursue her romantic little faerie tale now; she was too precious a commodity to waste on a planet that wouldn't be able to help them achieve their goals.

King Cova wanted dominance over Arus, but Avok wanted something more. The older prince of Pollux wished to take over the entire Far Universe. The plan started simply enough, as he and his father had hashed out. First, they would join forces with King Zarkon of Korrinoth by betrothing Romelle to the royal heir, Prince Lotor. They would use their new allies to take control of their twin planet, which wouldn't be so hard to do, seeing as how the world had already been razed. His father was content to stop there.

But not Avok.

 _Once we've taken control of Arus, I'll kill Father for the throne of Pollux. Romelle will be married off to Lotor, and I'll marry Bandor off to that filthy whore of a gutter-trash princess from Demos._ He smiled. _Or perhaps_ _I'll_ _marry her. In any case, with Doom and Demos on our side, we can begin to conquer the galaxy, one planet at a time. And then, once we have taken over the entire universe, I'll slaughter Lotor, Zarkon, and Cardinal Sen as well. I'll be the supreme ruler of the entire galaxy._

"Well. You seem pleased with yourself."

Avok paused mid-thought, bristling at the tone of her voice. "You should be getting ready for bed, Amue," he hissed, turning to face his sister. "You do your job, and I'll do mine."

Romelle stood in the hallway outside of her door. Clad in a long teal-blue nightdress and gold slippers, she crossed her arms over her chest. "Your _job_ ,"she reminded him menacingly, "is to figure out why Father has cut off all communications with Elnor. I haven't spoken to my fiancé in quite some time, and I would like to know what is going on."

 _Her fiancé. The little chit doesn't realize that she doesn't have a fiancé anymore. Stupid girl._ "My _job_ is to come up with a plan to elevate Pollux to the highest possible status." He stared her down coldly. "By whatever means possible. We were born to rise."

A cold, nameless fear swept down Romelle's spine. She knew her brother better than she cared to; his words were no idle promise, but a sinister threat. Sadly _—terrifyingly—_ she knew that she was merely a pawn in his grand scheme, that they were all pawns to use for Avok's political gain.

And deep down, she began to fear that she might never see her beloved Tristan again.

* * *

Pidge couldn't believe that the Arusians hiding in the underground caves had led him to the castle.

Not that he was complaining, or even the least bit ungrateful. In fact, he was so pleased to be home _—_ term used very loosely _—_ that he could have kissed the male leader who showed him the pathway back. _Eh, that probably wouldn't be appreciated._

Without words, the silent man pulled on a lever, and a wall creaked upwards. As it lifted, Pidge could see dim lighting, and judging from the shambles and the wrecked-up interior, he knew he was back in the castle. "Thank you," the systems analyst offered, nodding his head towards his guide with gratitude.

He merely grunted in response.

 _Whatever, it works._ Darting off down the darkened halls, Pidge scrambled to retrace his footsteps back to Castle Control. Because of his photographic memory and brilliant analytical mind, he found his way through the great hall and to the wall which they only _thought_ was a wall.

They knew better now, though.

"PIDGE!"

She must have seen him before he saw her. "Princess! I'm here!"

Coran and Allura rushed to meet him in the doorway. The poor Baltan had been through so much already, but he had no time to feel shaken or be coddled. "I need to find the guys and help them. Now."

Allura placed both hands on Pidge's shoulders. "They have already taken the lions," she informed him.

His eyes widened in surprise. "You mean, you found the keys?"

"Yes. I have the last one for you." She reached into a pocket hidden within the recesses of her gown and retrieved the final key. "Take it and join your friends."

Coran extended his cane towards the fourth elevator. "Take that one. You will find the final lion resting there."

It was too much all at once. Feeling his knees buckle, Pidge half-ran, half-stumbled over to the elevator. This was it. Four lions were already out on the battlefield, and the fifth was about to join. Voltron was ready to return.

* * *

Once Hunk had established where the command ship's power supply was located, he and his three teammates threw every weapon they had in their collective arsenal at it. Which was interesting, given the fact that every other fighter ship in the Doom fleet was attacking them at the same time.

"They're like flies," Sven groaned between gritted teeth as the paw of his Blue Lion smashed fighter ship. "Annoying and obnoxious. And everywhere."

"Hey now, Viking," Lance interjected, "I recall you saying the same thing about _me_ a time or two during the course of our friendship." He and his Red Lion dodged another fighter ship and fired a few shots at the command ship. They bounced off the reinforced outer hull without making a dent.

"I still feel that way, _min venn._ "

"Cut the chatter." Keith darted off in the direction of the command ship, firing every weapon that Black Lion would allow at the designated spot. He'd had enough of the laughter and the jokes and the fact that his team acted as though they weren't taking the situation seriously enough. Granted, deep down he knew that they _were_ taking matters seriously, that the humor was merely a coping mechanism, but on the surface, it wasn't helping.

"Hey guys, did you miss me?"

"PIDGE!" Four voices cried out in joy over the monitors as Green Lion joined them in combat.

"Little Buddy, you made it!" Hunk greeted him.

"Sure did. And I saw the damage these guys were doing to Arus first-hand." Green Lion head-butted a fighter ship and sent it crashing to the ground, where it exploded upon impact. "So I hope you guys don't mind if we cut the chit-chat and get down to business."

 _Thank God. One of them gets it._ Keith positioned his hands on the controls. "Let's do this, then. It's time for Voltron!"

The five lions darted off, flying upwards into the air in a perfect V formation. Outrunning the fighter jets and the command ship, their team captain found the words.

And then Voltron, resurrected after thousands of years, stood proudly in the midst of the Doom fleet.

* * *

 _Little Wyvern, last of the Wyvern…_

Haggar had been in a trance in front of her fiery altar, meditating to her gods as to how to advise Zarkon to proceed with Lotor's engagement. Though she personally was leaning towards Corrall of Demos, she had a feeling that the prince would prefer the pretty young blond from Pollux. The king could easily be persuaded to marry off his son to any of the eligible young women, but he would need a little... _encouragement_...to make the right decision.

 _The Defender of the Universe has returned._

The witch sat upright, breaking out of her deep meditative state. Had her goddess Sarga spoken truly? Had Voltron returned? And if so, how was it even possible? Did it have anything to do with those five space explorers?

She would have to find out. Willing herself calm, she doused the flames at the altar and immediately headed to the throne room to speak with Zarkon.


	9. Can't Hold Us

_Author's Note_ _: Happy summer! I hope you're enjoying it while you still can._

 _I timed this chapter with the release of Season Three of Voltron: Legendary Defender. Coincidence? Hey, if the stiletto fits..._

 _To Emie Mac: I feel honored that you're rereading my stories. I'm trying to edit them, you know, clean and tighten them up. Let's not forget, some of those chapters are over five years old!_

 _To WarzonePrez: Call them whatever you like, but those space mice are always going to annoy me._

 _To Kava: Haggar (Wade, too) is really very enjoyable to write. My old pal_ ** _SallyOn_** _and I always said that the baddies were the most fun._

 _To Susan: I think we all know where Jeff is heading in his decision as second-in-command. The fun begins in the why._

 ** _Title Song: "Can't Hold Us" by Macklemore & Ryan Lewis ft. Ray Dalton_**

* * *

Watching Voltron stand triumphantly from the control room, Allura grabbed onto her advisor and held tight. "They did it!"

"They did," Coran mused, hugging the princess. "They formed Voltron! The mighty robot has returned to us! Zarkon's forces will never be able to hold us down ever again!"

As Voltron stood proudly on the screen before them, staring down the enemy both benevolently and menacingly, the princess stared back in awe. _How does it do that? Look so intimidating, but also like it would show mercy and have compassion for its opponents?_

It was yet another mystery that would remain unsolved. She was only glad she'd had the opportunity to witness it.

* * *

When Yurak saw the mighty robot standing in front of them and staring his troops down, he almost laughed.

For a second.

 _What in the name of Ba'al_ _is_ _this?_ he thought, quickly trying to decide whether or not he should attempt to engage this creature or retreat to figure out another battle tactic on the safety of Korrinoth. Then again, if Zarkon found out that his most highly esteemed general had run away without so much as a fight, it might make his home planet the exact opposite of a safe haven.

"General Yurak?" one of his gunners spoke up nervously. "How would you like us to proceed?"

He narrowed his one good eye for a moment before slamming his fists down on the console. "Retreat," he growled through gritted teeth. "All forces, pull back and head for Korrinoth. We have no idea what we're fighting here, and before I face it in combat again, I'd like to know what I'm up against."

His fleet didn't need to ask twice. The pilots nearly fell over themselves trying to outrun each other, getting as far away from their enemy as possible. As the command ship followed the retreating fighter jets, its commander scowled to himself as he settled into his seat. Zarkon was not going to be pleased about any of this.

* * *

Once he'd spoken with Commander Hawkins, Jeff stumbled back to the common area of the Explorer. He felt giddy, but at the same time, he was filled with dread. His head and heart told him that he should choose Cliff as his second-in-command, and he chastised himself for thinking otherwise.

Because his gut was telling him to get to know Crik better before making such a huge decision.

The common area was packed, filled with not only his fellow Voltron pilots, but also off-duty Explorer crew members eager for a drink to help them unwind after the long day. For a moment, Jeff wondered if he'd made the right decision. He wanted to sit on his situation for a while. Cocktails and alcohol-fueled banter weren't going to help.

 _It's too bad Christiane's not here. She's the most rational person in the galaxy, she'd know what to say._

But Keith's sister wasn't onboard the Explorer, and by the time he finally got in touch with her, his decision would have to be made. Before sitting down with some of his teammates, he realized that he'd be better off alone to sort things through. He excused himself and headed back to his quarters.

"Jeff? Where are you going?"

He spun around to catch a glimpse of Ginger, shiny and golden-haired, staring back at him with those big sky-blue eyes. One look from her and his resolve melted away. "Back to my room. I need to think."

"Do you want company?"

"Oh! Uh…" He fidgeted clumsily for a moment. "Sure. Why not?"

"Great. My room's in that direction, too." With a wink, she linked her arm through his. "So, what do you need to think about? Does it have anything to do with what Commander Hawkins paged you for?"

"Only everything." At that moment, he knew he was going to tell the bubbly blond what had transpired and how he needed to choose between Cliff and Crik, but he didn't want to say it out in the open. "I'll tell you about it once we get to my quarters. I don't want anyone else to hear it just yet."

"Okay, cool." She didn't look overly excited by his admission at all. _Maybe that's what Lance loved so much about her. Ginger's a free spirit. Nothing worries her, nothing gets her down._

Once back at his room, Jeff entered the passcode into the keypad, and the door slid open. Ginger entered first, settling herself down immediately onto the red beanbag chair. "Now, tell me what's going on."

He closed the door behind him. "Commander Hawkins asked me to choose my own second-in-command. _But_ he told me that it had to be either Crik or Cliff. And quite honestly, I'm not sure who to go with."

She shrugged. "What does your gut tell you?"

 _Brilliant. I love that she didn't just automatically tell me to go with Cliff._ "My gut tells me to get to know Crik better before I make that decision."

"Then that's what you should do." She stretched out on the beanbag chair. "I respect you for not picking Cliff right off the bat just because we all lived together for five years. You're doing what a team leader would do, _not_ what a clique-y mass-thinking follower would do."

For a moment, he was taken aback. "I can't believe you just said that, Lemon Drop. Those might be some of the most insightful and complimentary words you have ever spoken."

Never taking her eyes off him, she picked up one of his boots from off the floor and proceeded to chuck it at him. It hit him squarely in the shoulder.

 _"Ow!_ What was that for?"

"Hey, I warned you…"

* * *

Another day in Instructor Haddley's class. Another morning when Morgan showed up so early that she was the first person in the lecture hall.

As 0900 hours grew closer, students began to fill the classroom. The navigator was too busy re-reading her notes from the previous day's lecture to notice or care when David sat down in his seat next to her. "Good morning, Morgan."

"Oh. Good morning." She briefly looked up to acknowledge his comment before glancing back down at her notes.

He said nothing further, rummaging through his messenger bag and pulling out his note-taking device. It was obvious that he had given up on being friendly with her and was merely trying to make it through the next two years instead.

"Hey, David?"

His expression was alarmed as he looked over his shoulder at her. "Yes?"

"Geez, don't look so scared. I won't bite," she scowled. "In any case, I had a notepad malfunction yesterday, so I missed a huge chunk of notes. Do you think you could help me fill in the blanks?"

"Oh, of course." He flipped his tablet open and scrolled back to the previous day's notes. "What time do you need? My notes are time-stamped."

"Sweet. It was around 14:20."

He brought the lecture from the appointed time up on his screen. "Here you go."

"Thanks." She smiled before copying his text into her own notes. "By the way, I was doing some thinking last night."

 _Thinking? That could be dangerous, coming from her._ "About what?"

"I was thinking about what Len said. I have been a huge jerk to you, David, and I'm sorry. I should really grow up."

His eyes widened. "That took some pretty big _cojones_ to admit, Morgan. I accept your apology."

"Great." She smiled, blinking her violet eyes at him. "And I should get your phone number, too."

"Er…"

"Yeah, when I saw how much was missing out of my notes, I figured it might be easier if I could just call you and get the information in my spare time. Well, that, and if we need a study session, we could arrange it faster."

David merely stared at her for a moment before he could find his voice to answer. "Who are you, and where did you hide the old Morgan Feld?"

She furrowed her eyebrows.

"Because I don't want you to find the old version. I like this new version much, _much_ better."

Morgan smiled. "Let's hit lunch together at the cafeteria, David," she suggested. "You can give me your number there. I've got a feeling that we've got a bunch of stuff to talk about."

"Right-o." The British gunner had no idea what had just transpired, but he decided to roll with it. After all, a pleasant seatmate would make the next two years pass by that much faster.

* * *

Keith couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief as he watched the enemy ships turn tail and leave Arus's atmosphere. This was new. Brand-new. And Voltron... _Voltron!_ It was like finding out that the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy, and Santa Claus were all real.

"Hey guys," Lance mentioned over the general comm unit, "I think they're hauling heinie out of here."

"Thanks for that, McClain." Normally, the captain might have chided the outspoken pilot, but right now, he was so relieved that he didn't much care.

"We should break apart and head back to the castle," Sven suggested. "If we're not going to fight as one unit, then we should discuss strategies and tactics for when we do. Because I can guarantee that this not the last we have seen of those Doom fighters."

 _He's right. Why does he_ _always_ _have to be right?_ Once again, Keith's insecurities got the better of him. "That's an excellent idea, Sven. You heard him, team. Disassemble and return the lions to their dens. We have a lot to discuss, and I'd like to get input from Allura and Coran, too."

"Right on, Chief," Hunk agreed. "Back to the castle!"

The five lions broke apart and headed back to their respective dens. As Keith returned Black to its rightful place in front of the castle, he couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that this was only the very beginning, and that they all had a long journey ahead of them.

* * *

Hazar knew that he had no reason to be nervous, but standing in front of Emperor Zeppo, he was anyway.

Not that he was the only one who was there. Or nervous. He was the first in a line of Drule captains and lieutenants being promoted. Mongo stood to his right, Twyla to his left. Further down the line on the other side of the lone female in the group was Nerok, Quark, Brack, Borgam, and Zabar. This was a big deal.

"Thank you for being here, good soldiers of Drule." Zeppo sat on his throne, impatiently tapping his fingers together. "As you have been informed you are each here to receive your promotion. And, as such, you will be in charge of your own exploration fleet."

The emperor did not tell them why they were being promoted. It certainly wasn't for their outstanding efforts or accolades. No, there were more urgent reasons for him to commence exploration fleets.

They needed to find a new world to live on.

Drule, unbeknownst to the vast majority of its citizens, was falling apart. Years of neglect and burying their own waste in the core of the planet had caused their homeworld to irreversibly decline. The emperor knew that it was a matter of time before a mass implosion occurred, one which would wipe out every living being.

It was time for his best and brightest rising stars to find them a new home planet. Not that they needed to know why, of course. They just needed to find it.

 _One of these fools ought to be able to locate a new planet. It doesn't even have to be unoccupied—we can take it over if necessary, capture its citizens as slaves, and start over as a new Planet Drule._

"Congratulations. Your new posts are effective at the beginning of the week. You are all dismissed." Zeppo waved them away with a flick of his wrist.

As they exited the throne room, Mongo shuddered. "That was weird," he whispered to Hazar. "It was too fast. Too informal."

"Yes, I agree," Hazar answered. "I feel as though Emperor Zeppo is leaving out a lot of key details."

"I do too."

Little did they know how right they both were.

* * *

Back at the Castle of Lions, the five pilots returned each of the lions to the proper dens and headed back for the control room. Once there, they found both the princess and her advisor in a state of bewilderment and euphoria.

"You did it!" Allura screeched, charging at the five space explorers in a full-on run. "You formed Voltron!"

She ran right into them, slamming against Keith with full force. Without even realizing what she was doing, she had wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. _Mmm. He smells so..._ _good_ _._

Embarrassed, the team captain returned the hug for only a second or two before ducking out from beneath her arms. "So we did," he grinned sheepishly, stepping away from the princess so as to not arouse suspicion from his teammates. "Not that we were able to fight as Voltron, mind you. Whoever was in charge of Zarkon's forces made sure to pull back before we could attack."

"That was a smart move on their part," Coran joined them in conversation. "That fleet commander was no fool. He will no doubt report what he saw back to Zarkon, and before we know it, the entire universe will know that Voltron has returned."

"Well, that's not such a bad thing, is it?" Hunk scratched the back of his head. "I mean, once word gets out that Arus has Voltron, nobody will wanna attack, right?"

Sven shook his head. "I think the opposite might happen. The dark forces—Doom especially—won't see Voltron so much of a threat as a challenge. Imagine the glory that Zarkon would gain from defeating Arus now!"

"Yes, I agree." The advisor nodded his head vehemently.

Her face falling, Allura turned back to the new Black Lion pilot. "Do you agree with that assessment, too?"

The last thing Keith wanted to do was burst her bubble. He had to do so gently. "I think," he spoke kindly, "that we have a lot more work we need to do before we face Zarkon's troops again. I think we need to establish lion practice. And we need to up the castle defenses, too—see what works and what doesn't, what needs upgrades and what should go. I think we should upgrade our communications and we should _definitely_ establish a perimeter scan. That's the only way we can be on our toes."

His teammates gave each other quick glances. Yes, there was no doubt that Keith's recommendations were right on target, but he had completely— _completely—_ skirted the question. _He must really like her,_ Lance mused in his head, stifling a grin. He'd suspected from their walk through the catacombs that their team leader would be the one to fall for the princess, but he hadn't expected for it to happen so quickly.

Or for his intuition to be so right.

Allura's back stiffened, visibly uncomfortable with the answer. It was almost as though she knew exactly why he'd answered the way he had. Maybe she was embarrassed. Who knew?

"Those are excellent ideas, Captain," she replied, her voice as stiff as her back. "We should implement them immediately. I trust you will manage your team to get the jobs done."

"Of course." He pulled away, embarrassed himself, then turned to face his four teammates. "Well, you heard the princess. We need to start getting this place together ASAP. Let's get started. Pidge, you stay here with Coran and see what security systems you can set up. Sven and Lance, you two will escort Allura through the castle—I need an accurate account of what's salvageable and what's condemned. Hunk, you and I will head outside and check on the castle defenses."

His four teammates saluted. "Come along, Princess," Lance added slyly, shooting her a crooked grin. "Take us on a tour of your castle."

She giggled, but the laughter didn't quite reach her green eyes.

* * *

Hawkins had no sooner poured himself a tumbler of brandy when he heard the pounding on the door. From the banging of the fists, he knew that it could be none other than his closest friend on the ship. "I'll be there in just a second, Rich."

He left his drink at the desk and opened the door to find, as expected, Captain Newley in the hallway. "Well, I hope you saved some for me," he pouted, inclining his head towards the tumbler. "You owe me after that surprise you sprung on me."

"What surprise?"

"Your stunt on the bridge with Captain Aki."

Hawkins rolled his eyes. "As commander of this ship, I don't have to explain all of my motives to you."

"Yes, but as your only real ally on this ship, I suggest that you do."

"Oh, fine." The dark-haired commander poured another tumbler full of brandy and handed it over to the ship's captain. "I asked him to choose his own second."

Newley nearly spit out his mouthful of brandy, recovering only because he didn't want to waste the precious liquid. "Do you really think that was a good call? I mean, not to sound cruel here, but Captain Aki is very inexperienced. _Very._ How can you be so sure that he won't screw this decision up?"

Hawkins took a sip from his tumbler, then turned to face the wall. "Plenty of people could have called _us_ inexperienced when we started on this ship, Rich. But Space Marshall Graham had faith in us, and look at how far we've gotten. I'd like to pass the opportunity along to Aki, give him a chance to prove himself."

"Hmph," Newley snorted. "They might have called _me_ inexperienced, but not you. Don't forget, Jon, that this is your uncle's ship. So the Explorer is sort of like your little brother. No one would dare call _you_ inexperienced."

"No one has ever referred to this ship as my little brother before. I think space is starting to get to you."

"It might be. I wouldn't be surprised." He clinked his glass against his longtime friend's. "In the meanwhile, I suggest that we both monitor Aki from now on. I've read the report on him. He's fairly hot-tempered, if I remember correctly, and I would hate to see him choose his second-in-command without thinking it through."

"I hate to tell you this, but both Captains Jack and Keats are well-suited for the position. He couldn't make a bad decision about this if he tried."

Newley shrugged. "Fine. I'll agree to that point, just as long as _you_ agree to never make a major decision and not tell me why you're doing it."

Hawkins sighed, reaching over for the bottle of brandy to top off his glass. _"Fine."_

"Deal." The captain took another sip. "Besides, you'll thank me for this when you're calling me _Uncle Rich_."

At those words, the commander did spit out his brandy. And then bury his face in his hands.

* * *

As Haggar headed to the throne room, she repeated her goddess's words over and over in her head. _The Defender of the Universe has returned._ It seemed so surreal to her. How was it possible that Voltron had been resurrected? Sarga herself had split him asunder.

 _Who put him back together?_ She had a terrible suspicion that those five escaped space explorers were at the root of this situation, but she didn't want to say anything aloud until all the facts were confirmed.

Once within the throne room, she found Zarkon at the viewscreen, speaking with Yurak. From the expression on his face, she could tell that the commander had failed in his mission on Arus and was headed back to Doom with his tail between his legs. Perhaps it was true—those space explorers really had been the ones to breathe life back into the Defender.

If so, then they had to die. All of them.

With a growl, Zarkon shut off and backed away from the viewscreen. His displeasure was evident by his scowl. "Haggar," he grunted as he noticed the witch in his throne room, "what news do you have for me now?"

"I see that Yurak was not... _able_...enough to complete his mission." Haggar thoroughly detested the commander and never shied away from an opportunity to mock or discredit him. "I am sorry, my lord, that he has failed you."

"As am I, old witch." He turned his back on her and headed towards the throne, where he wearily lowered himself to sit. "As. Am. I."

She swallowed. She _had_ to tell him Sarga's words, if only to confirm what Yurak had already told him, but she hated to do so now. "My lord, I wanted to let you know that my goddess has spoken to me— _disrupted_ me, actually, while I was in meditation. She told me that Voltron has returned. Is it true?"

Zarkon exhaled a long sigh. "Yes. Yurak saw the Defender with his own eyes. Er... _eye."_

Haggar smiled imperceptibly beneath her hood. It _was_ a funny joke, after all. "Then it is true. It was the space explorers who escaped who resurrected him."

"It would seem so." He tapped his fingertips together impatiently.

"I shall begin preparing robeasts now, my lord. We will need them to fight an enemy as great as Voltron. And we will win." She steeled her voice with conviction. "We _will_."

The Drule king did not look as though he believed her.

* * *

At lunch, Christiane stopped by her dorm building—#672—before hitting up the cafeteria. She wasn't sure why, it wasn't as though she'd forgotten anything or felt as if she needed something. But her sixth sense told her to go.

Even as she approached the room, nothing looked out of the ordinary. She typed in the passcode to the door—the old lock-and-key system had _finally_ been replaced over the summer—and entered the dorm.

Whatever she had been waiting for, it was on the floor. She bent over to pick it up.

A letter.

No one left handwritten notes anymore. No one. And Christiane didn't have many—if any—friends; the only people who ever bothered with her were the ones who were somehow trying to get closer to Keith, and certainly no one who could be bothered to write something down on a scrap of paper and tuck it under her door.

 _Who in the world…?_

Her roommate wasn't there, so she plopped down onto her bed and began to read in silence.

 _Christiane,_

 _I know we don't know each other, and I know this is weird. My name is Morgan, and Jeff is my best friend. He's asked me to watch over you in his absence_ — _ironically, only because your own brother asked him to do the same for him._

 _Yeah. Like I said, weird._

 _In any case, since the last thing I would ever do is go back on my word, I'd like to come by tomorrow and check on you. I've enclosed my phone number at the bottom of this letter. If there's any time that's better for you, call me and let me know. Otherwise, I'll see you at 1730 hours._

Yes, weird would be one way to put it. Christiane's gaze fell to the bottom of the letter, where Morgan had indeed provided her phone number. She felt tempted to call it, but why? At 1730 hours, her roommate would be at dinner, and she would have the dorm to herself. It was the perfect set-up.

Her veins hummed and buzzed with an excitement she hadn't felt in a long, long time. Tomorrow, she was about to meet Jeff's best friend—and, even though she hadn't explicitly come out and said it, the woman who had once captured Keith's heart.

* * *

Aidan hummed to himself as he wandered down the alleyway. He felt like he was playing hooky, though in reality, the Garrison hadn't needed him for his teaching assistant position today. What better way to spend the free time than looking at hovercars?

None. There was none. Well, okay, there was _one_ , but she was engaged and certainly not thinking about doing _that_ with him.

Aidan had wanted a vehicle of his own for as long as he could remember. Immediately after graduation, when Morgan purchased her own hoverbike, he found himself jealous. As in, _insanely_ jealous. He didn't want a bike, but he did want his own means of transportation.

Besides, he was pretty sure that Morgan had only purchased the bike to spite Keith. Which was amusing, considering the fact that her ex-boyfriend was now on an entirely different planet and didn't give a care in all the universe.

Breaking out of his thoughts, he snapped back to attention as he approached the doorway to the dealership. He didn't have a lot of money, and being a teaching assistant at the Garrison wasn't the best-paying job in the world, so he wasn't so proud that he had to have a brand-new hovercar. He just wanted a hovercar.

If it had a million miles on it already, so be it.

With his familiar confident swagger, he entered the dealership, ready to make the purchase. He wanted to do this. _Today._ He wanted to roll out of there behind the wheel of a vehicle. It didn't matter what it was. He was ready to move on to the next chapter of his life, the post-Academy edition, and he didn't want to be held back.

"Good afternoon. May I help you?" a salesman asked.

He tried not to make his smile too big. "Yeah. I'd like to see your inventory of used hovercars."

The salesman knew he was about to make a deal. "Very well, then. Follow me, Sir."

Aidan followed him out through the back door of the dealership and to the yard, where a variety of pre-owned hovercars sat on the ground, waiting for his approval. And he thought that he had never been so excited in his entire life... _and_ that Clifford Jack would be very proud.


	10. Can't Remember to Forget You

_Author's Note_ _: This is one of my favorite chapters. I hope you enjoy._

 _Happy Labor Day! Even though it's the unoffocial end of the summer. BOO!_

 _To WarzonePrez: I'm doing the best I can with Hawkins & Newley. I'm trying especially hard with Newley, as you well know._

 _To sunshineleo: ONE MORE MONTH!_

 _To kava: Thank you for being one of the few people (maybe even the ONLY person) who likes Morgan. Just because she couldn't make it work with Keith, it doesn't mean she's a monster._

 _To Susan: I'm glad your persistence paid off! Wait until you see what I have in store for Kieran. If you read the last couple of chapters of "In the End," you'll know he's alive & well...AND rooming with one of his brother's old Academy pals._

 _To Emie Mac: It's hard for me to watch the old episodes, too, because I want to grab them & alter them. I'm glad you're still enjoying. I'm still working on re-editing the old stories._

 ** _Title Song: "Can't Remember to Forget You" by Shakira ft. Rihanna_**

* * *

They couldn't sleep. How could they? They were on a strange planet, a battle could break out at any moment, and then there were the lions. _Voltron,_ Keith thought incredulously. Who would have known that the rumors and stories would out to be true? How could _anyone_ sleep when they had the defender of the universe within their grasp?

Well, at least the princess could.

The five of them sat outside on the balcony of the war-torn castle. None of them could sleep; they were just as wired as their team captain. "So," Lance started, flicking his lighter and watching the flame dance around, "since we're all up, let's play a game of Honesty."

"Honesty?" Keith raised an eyebrow. "What the heck is _that_?"

"It's kinda like Truth or Dare, except you have to give an honest answer, no exceptions, and there's no dare. The person with the best answer gets to ask the next question. I'll start: What was the stupidest thing you ever did in your life?"

"Easy. I roomed with you for five years," Sven snorted.

"Don't worry, Viking, I'll get you for that. I think the stupidest thing _I_ ever did was not take my beanbag chair with me to Arus."

"This is ridiculous." Keith rolled his eyes. "Besides, I've never done anything stupid."

"I bet _Morgan_ would beg to disagree," Hunk shot out.

"Shut up, Tsuyoshi."

"Hey, it's true. I've never done anything stupid, either," Pidge spoke up for their captain. "I think, logically speaking, the stupidest thing any one of us has done was getting captured by Doom on the way here."

Stunned, four heads nodded in the young Baltan's direction. "Shorty's got a point," Lance sulked. "Fine. You get to ask the next question."

The grin lit up Pidge's face. "Cool." He wiped his glasses along the hem of his shirt. "Back at the Academy, when was the most scared you ever were, and why? For me, it was that moment Graham called us into his office to tell us that we were going to Arus. Not because I was worried about our mission, but because I dreaded being separated from Chip. I'll admit it. I miss my brother. Lots."

None of the guys would dare make fun of Pidge for his heartfelt answer. "It's okay, Shorty," Hunk assured him. "Mine was during our first year, on the day Cinda showed up in Engineering 101. She was so small, and I was scared to death that she was gonna get crushed by some of the machinery we were working on. Good thing she didn't. She proved everybody in that department wrong. I was so proud of her. Still am." The wistful look on his face was priceless, and not even Lance would dare poke fun at him.

Keith exhaled. "Mine was during our fifth year, the morning after Morgan's twenty-first birthday. When we woke up, I got a really good, _sober_ look at her tattoo, and I was terrified. I mean, there was my initial, right over her butt. And I was really scared because I thought, _What if we don't make it? She'll have this_ _K_ _tattooed there for the rest of her life._ "He dropped his head. "Obviously, my fears came true."

"Ironically, mine was the same blasted day," Sven chimed in. "That morning, Morgan and I sat down in Advanced Navigation, awaiting our quiz—which, if you remember, I assumed we'd fail anyway—when Instructor Bailey came in and told us that we weren't allowed to use calculators. I think my heart stopped beating." He grinned. "And thenhe told us that he was just trying to see who was paying attention, and that yes, of course we could use calculators. Not that it mattered by that point. My nerves were shot."

Lance began to laugh. "Mine was during our third year. Do you guys remember that huge blizzard, the one that dropped three feet of snow on us overnight, and classes were canceled at 1400 hours in preparation?"

Sven threw a chunk of debris at him; he knew _exactly_ what his old roommate was going to say. "I'll kill you, McClain. Don't think I won't."

Lance ignored him. "Yeah, so _I_ had class until 13:50, but my roommate here did not. _His_ classes were all canceled. Stupid navigation." He scowled. "So anyway, I finally get out of class, I go back to my dorm room, and I swear I hear grunting from behind the door. I'm thinking that, hey, maybe the Viking's working out or something—you know, push-ups or crunches or whatever. So I stick my key in the door and turn the knob to unlock it, and I hear this angry stream of Norwegian curse words coming at me. It was the scariest thing that's ever happened to me in my _life_ , not just at the Academy." He started to laugh so hard there were tears in his eyes, and his friends—minus Sven, who looked annoyed—followed suit. "Yeah, my esteemed roommate here was in the middle of a workout, all right...he was closing the deal with his girlfriend."

Keith wiped the tears out of his eyes. "So _that's_ the reason you were hanging with me and Jeff for so long that afternoon."

"Heck yeah. I was too afraid to go back in there after that. An angry Norwegian is not someone to mess with." He winked. "Besides, Chief, I figured you owed me for all those times your roommate had to sleep on my floor."

Sven still looked annoyed. "It wouldn't hurt you to _remember_ not to mess with an angry Norwegian, McClain." Then his expression softened, and they were all quiet for a moment. "Guys, I have to be honest: I know that the question was about the Academy, but I've never been more afraid than I am right now."

"Why's that?" Pidge piped up.

"You afraid of the Doomies? Don't worry, we'll crush 'em," Hunk reassured him.

Sven shook his head, and Lance, having lived with him for so long, knew what he was going to say. They all watched as the navigator lifted up the chain from underneath the collar of his shirt. "I'm scared that we'll never make it back to Earth," he admitted, gripping the small platinum wedding band that belonged to his fiancée. "I'm terrified that I'll never see Lenora again."

It was a sobering statement, and the silence was thick amongst them. Finally, Lance cleared his throat. "You really love my Sis that much, don't you, Viking."

"You know I do." He dropped his head and closed his eyes. "You _know_ I do. As I told her before we left, not even death will come between us."

"Don't worry, Sven," Hunk assured him. "We'll make sure you get home to Lennie."

But for some reason, the navigator felt a nagging tug in the pit of his stomach that it wasn't going to be so easy.

* * *

 _Stupid. This is so stupid,_ Morgan chastised herself as she trudged over the quad to the dorm buildings. It hadn't been so long since she graduated from the Space Academy that she'd forgotten her way around campus. _Jeff owes me big for this. BIG. Like, so big that I can't even imagine how he's ever gonna pay me back._

Building #672. She already knew the passcode to get inside; Chip and Rocky had lived there back in the day. She found it ironic that Christiane lived there now. Punching the set of numbers into the keypad, the door slid open, and she went right in.

As she made her way up to the fourth floor—the top floor of any dorm building, not just this one—she wished desperately that Lenora had come with her and wasn't trying on wedding gowns right now. Her Wifey and Keith's little sister were both systems analysts; they'd understand each other. But no, Jeff had been adamant that no one in their family find out about Christiane's existence. It was something Keith had begged of him, and he chose to honor.

 _Why in blazes would he honor_ _anything_ _Kogane said? Those two were just as poisonous for each other as roommates as we were as lovers._ But as much as she didn't like it, she would keep quiet about this girl. It didn't have anything to do with Keith. She would honor her promise to Jeff.

Making her way up to the room in question, she hesitated before knocking on the door.

It took all of three seconds for an answer. Keith's sister whipped the door open, almost as if she had been expecting a knock at that exact moment, and assessed her visitor.

Morgan found herself lost in Christiane's turquoise gaze. _She has Keith's eyes._ Her vision glazing over in tears, she began to shake wordlessly on the threshold of the dorm room. _Oh, God. I'm not ready for this._

Sympathetically, the seer gazed back at Jeff's friend, the one person he had trusted enough to stand in for him. Taking Morgan's face in her hands, she closed her eyes and saw everything. The tears, the screams, the arguments, the sleepless nights, the hurled navigation text—it was all there.

But that wasn't all she saw. She saw the love. The sweet gestures, the hand-holding, the stolen kisses. There had been a genuine connection between Keith and Morgan, though it hadn't been powerful enough to sustain them.

"You loved him." She spoke gently when she finally broke the silence. "And he loved you as well."

"Yeah. Yeah, I did." Morgan sniffled pathetically. "And I suppose, in his own way, he did too."

"Oh, Morgan." Christiane wrapped her arms around the navigator and hugged her. Closing her eyes, she saw so much of Keith intertwined with this one woman. There was so much pain and joy, love and hate, elation and sadness. It made her mourn the fact that she didn't know her own brother so well.

"Yeah, I know. No need to say anything else about that." Morgan melted into the young girl. She had finally found a home in a Kogane's embrace. Not in her ex-boyfriend, but with his sister.

And perhaps that was the most surprising of all.

* * *

The bridal salon was outrageously exclusive; the staff doted on Angelie and Lenora as though they were the only two women in the world. Fawning over them both, they swathed the bride-to-be in the most expensive of gowns while plying her mother with cup after cup of fine tea, served in gilt-edged bone china. _Too extravagant for me_ , Lenora thought with an internal eye-roll as one of the staff members zipped up her dress. _I would never wear anything like this for Sven. Only for Mom._

Angelie was enjoying herself too much. After their lovely meal at the Russian Tea Room, complete with a bottle of pricey sauvignon blanc, she revelled in the lavish attention that the staff had given her. "Nora, darling," she cooed, the vestiges of the wine still in her voice, "come out and show me."

"You heard the lady. The show must go on." The bride-to-be turned back to glance at the staff member, who opened the curtain for her to exit the dressing room.

As Lenora stepped out, the billowing white silk chiffon skirt surrounding her in a cloud of fabric and making it difficult for her to walk, she watched her mother's eyes dampen. "Oh, my darling!" she exclaimed, her shaky hand causing the teacup to rattle against its saucer. "You look absolutely _breathtaking_!"

She didn't feel breathtaking; she felt like a ball of fabric. "I'm glad you like it, Mom," she mumbled, turning to the side to allow her mother a view of the back of the dress. "It's not my favorite." She imagined what Sven might say if he were there. He would probably snort at the gown.

Angelie shook her head. "Oh, hush. It's a simple, classic, _gorgeous_ ballgown. And that fabric!" She clasped her hands to her chest and swooned. "That silk is simply _divine_!"

"Your mother has excellent taste," the salesgirl noted.

"Yeah, she does." Lenora turned to face herself in the full-length mirror. As much as she didn't want to admit it, the dress looked beautiful on her. It just didn't _feel_ like her.

It didn't feel like Sven, either.

Sinking to the floor, she stared at her reflection and touched his ring, strung around her neck. _Where are you,_ _min elske_ _?_ she wondered, her knees shaking so much that they knocked together. _Are you safe? Are you warm and sheltered? Have you eaten? Do you think of me as often as I think of you?_

"She's in shock. That dress is the one," Angelie declared.

Lenora inhaled at her mother's completely off-putting misinterpretation of her stance, but at the moment, she didn't have the energy to fight. "Maybe. But most likely not."

"We have other dresses for you to try on," the salesgirl reminded her gently.

"Um...yeah. Sure. Okay." She lifted her head up, wondering if her expression could possibly convey what she was really thinking: that she was trapped in a prison of silk and lace, that she would rather be in her fiancé's arms than a billowing ballgown, that the wedding didn't mean nearly as much to her as the man she was pledging her heart to.

Shooting her a sympathetic smile, the salesgirl looked as if she understood.

* * *

They still hadn't formed Voltron.

It was becoming a sore spot on behalf of the Voltron captains, and particularly on Commander Hawkins. Every day, the team practiced a series of drills, runs, and most importantly, mastering the art of assembling the three subunits. While it was true that they were becoming tighter and faster in handling their mecha, the formation of Voltron—or lack thereof—was the proverbial elephant in the room.

When Jeff complained, post-practice, to Cliff and Crik, he found them to have mixed feelings about it.

"Yeah, mate, I want to get this Voltron business down too," the Aussie Land Team captain agreed, running a hand through his damp blond locks. "I feel like our blokes know how to get the subunits together." He shot a knowing grin over at Crik. "Even Hutch and Marvin."

While the Miran returned the smile and the dig at his friends, he did not return the sentiments about forming Voltron. Perhaps it was all the meditation he performed that granted him such profound patience, or his sixth sense that reassured him that their giant robot was in the immediate future. "The time is coming, my friends," the Sea Team captain assured them. "Don't stress so much about it."

Jeff made a face. "That's coming from the guy who could meditate his life away."

Crik clapped him on the back. "You should try it, my friend. You might feel more at peace with the Voltron situation if you did."

"Somehow, I doubt it." Jeff made a grab at Cliff's beer bottle and took a swig.

"Hey, mate!" the Aussie shouted. "Who do you think you are, _Dalloway_?"

"Except without the long blond hair."

Crik raised his eyebrows. "And on that note, my friends, I am going to retire to my room. Have a nice evening, the both of you."

As the door slid shut behind him, Cliff swiped his beer bottle back. "What a pleasant fellow," he mused, taking a sip. "I really like him."

"I do, too." And that was Jeff's problem. Aside from not forming Voltron, he really did like Crik. And Cliff. And he had no clue who he wanted to pick for his second-in-command.

He was failing in every aspect of this job. Commander Hawkins was going to be so disappointed in him.

* * *

It was the first night in many years that Allura slept soundly and peacefully. Also, it was the first night that she had fallen asleep in her own bedroom, and not Allistaire's.

Her brother, the crown prince of Arus, had led the charge against Doom's forces when Zarkon first attacked her planet, and as such, he had been one of the first to perish in battle. Though ten years older, the two of them had been remarkably close, and she missed him perhaps even more than she missed her parents. In addition, her bedroom had sustained considerably more damage than his had, so it only seemed logical that she used his quarters instead.

But not tonight. Tonight, she could sleep happily on ten pillows, feeling safe for the first time in as long as she could remember.

"Oh, Allie-cakes, you gave up my room just like that?"

 _That voice. That name._ Her eyes filling with tears, she rolled over and pushed herself upright, only to come face to face with the spirit whose face had haunted her since he died. "Allis?"

"The one and only." Even as a spirit, he look smug and proud, with his wavy strawberry-blond hair and merry aquamarine eyes.

"Thank you for coming here."

He shrugged. "How could I not? I saw Voltron formed for the first time today. Under your leadership. Under _you_." He spoke the last word with conviction. "Allie-cakes, I know you still think you're only a kid. But you aren't. You're not only the last reigning monarch of Arus, but you're becoming a woman."

"You sound cheesier than I remember." She used the crack to lighten the tension as she wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Say what you like, but you know it's the truth." He crossed his arms over his chest, and his expression grew serious. "This is it, Allura. You'll be the one to conquer Doom. You'll be the one to destroy Zarkon and restore Arus to glory. After all, _you_ have already seen the resurrection of the Defender of the Universe. Things can only go up from here."

"You sound so certain, like it's a done deal." The princess felt very small, shivering under the threadbare blanket. "It's a lot to ask of me, Allis."

Reaching forward, his ghostly fingers brushed her forehead. "And I wouldn't ask it of you if I didn't know that you were capable," he replied. "But you are."

"You sound so sure. How can you be so certain?"

"It's your destiny, Allie-cakes." His expression was one of regret. "I thought it would be _my_ destiny, to protect Arus from Korrinoth. Obviously, I was wrong. The mantle has fallen onto your shoulders."

She could tell from his pained tone that he _was_ sorry that she had to be the strong one, the one who had to pick up the pieces of their broken planet. But what other choice was there? Somehow, she had known all along that, eventually, she would have to become a champion for her people.

And she was incredibly grateful that these five space explorers, with their foreign curse words and their squabbles and their long hair and their... _Lemon Drops_...had arrived just in time to resurrect Voltron and help her in her new mission.

With that realization, she lifted her chin defiantly. "I will do my very best. I promise."

"That's my girl!" His eyes twinkled like stars. "I knew you would."

Then her eyes dropped. "I miss you, Allistaire."

"I miss you too, Allura." His voice softened. "I always miss you, but don't forget, I'm always watching over you."

Although she knew the answer to her next question, she had to ask it. "Will this be the last time I see you?"

"Yes." He didn't mince his words. He never had. "Don't forget about me, Allie-cakes."

"I never will."

"No, you won't. You're a good girl. A better sister than I ever deserved." His image began fading quickly. Too quickly, and she struggled to keep his outline in sight, seared into her memory. "Remember, I'm always watching. You're in good hands with these guys—they might seem a little crazy, but they'll take care of you." Suddenly, only his aquamarine eyes were visible in the darkness. "I love you, Allura."

"I love you more, Allistaire."

Then he was gone, and Allura fell back onto her mattress, clutching the pillow and burying her face in it. She was full of mixed emotions—fear, anger, worry, love, and an overwhelming amount of sadness. But she knew that her brother was right, that she had to be the one in charge now. There was no one else to take over the royal throne and lead Arus to victory against Zarkon and his forces.

It was all on her shoulders now. Officially.

* * *

King Barquiel Aragrave had been trying so hard to contact Pollux for his son's—as well as Romelle's and Bandor's—sake. It was impossible to get a message through to King Cova, and nearly as much to receive word about what was happening on the planet. He feared that something dreadful was happening, and there was no way to help or prevent it.

Tristan felt the same way.

"I know that something terrible is going on there, and they're holding Amue hostage," the young prince seethed, slamming his fists against the console in the Elnorian castle's control room. "Why else wouldn't they let a transmission from us in? Elnor and Pollux are allies!"

" _Used_ to be allies," his father corrected him. "We can't read Cova's mind, and we have no idea why Pollux has severed ties with us. We can only proceed cautiously and hope that Amue's family hasn't done something regrettable in the wake of the queen's death."

Tristan didn't like that answer. _"Proceed cautiously?_ Are you out of your mind? This isn't a war we're trying to avoid, it's my trying to get through to my fiancée!"

"It might as well be a war we're trying to avoid." Tristan's mother, Queen Orianthe Boden, stood in the doorway. "My fear is that Cova has gone mad since the death of his wife. And let us not forget, she and I were the two who arranged for your engagement, _not_ him. He may be acting out of grief, or he may be taking the situation into his own hands and changing it at his whim."

The prince stared at his mother in shock, then turned to face his father. "Do you agree?"

"It may be so," the king demurred sadly.

"Perhaps," Orianthe suggested, "it would be better if you forgot about Romelle. There are other princesses in the galaxy. It might be the time to make their acquaintances."

"Are you mad? No! _No!_ I will _not_ just forget about Amue. I love her!"

Warily, the queen looked over at her husband, who shrugged. The king obviously shared his son's sentiments—he loved Romelle like his own child, and looked upon Bandor with great fondness. And it was odd to him that his wife, by her own admission, was the one who had arranged the marriage, and now she was the one who was encouraging him to get over the girl.

Moving on would not be easy for Tristan. Or for any of them, really.

"He's right. We will not simply forget about Cova's two younger children." Barquiel narrowed his eyes at his wife. "We will do everything in our power to rescue them from that madman. And we will not stop until our dying breaths."

Little did he know how true his words would be.

* * *

Because practice was over, Modoch wandered the hallways of the Explorer by himself, trying to memorize the ship's layout. There were common areas, restricted areas, and of course the hangar and the bridge. _One day,_ he thought, _I'll memorize the entire floor plan. Unfortunately, I might be retired by the time that actually happens._

Sometimes he preferred being alone with his thoughts. Shannon called him a brooder, although that term was often better used to describe the Irishman himself; the gentle giant was _not_ brooding. Rather, he was thinking about Kelly, how much he loved her, how much he missed her, and how he couldn't wait to see her again.

And even though he felt like he was wallowing in David Rackens' seven hells without her, he was grateful that at least he had her two closest friends with him on the Land Team.

"Modoch! What are you up to?"

Shaken out of his thoughts, he turned to look over his shoulder. Cinda, still dressed in her brick-red Land Team uniform, had followed him out of the common area and chased him down. "What's wrong?" he asked out of instinct.

She caught up to him. "I was worried about you. You looked so..." She frowned. _"Sad."_

He shrugged. "Just thinking about Kelly, that's all."

"I understand." She began to walk again, and he followed suit, sticking closely by her side. "I was thinking about chopping my hair off. You know, to fit under my helmet better, like Ginger's. But then I said to myself, _You know, normally I'd work this through with Kelly_. And now she's not here."

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know." He looked over at her. "And besides, I am the _last_ person you want to be asking about hair. _Especially_ women's hair."

She giggled. "Well, I trust a man's opinion. I used to bounce a lot of ideas off of my engineering partner. _He_ was a guy."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. He's stationed with Chip's brother now. I miss _him_ , too."

Modoch read between the lines. There they were, two teammates, the best friend and boyfriend of the same girl, both of them missing their heart's desire. It would take a lot of pretending to forget...provided, of course, that they _wanted_ to forget.

There were no words of comfort to be offered, and certainly no hair advice on Modoch's part. Instead, he wrapped his arm around her shoulder in comfort, and the two of them walked together with no destination in mind, allowing themselves to feel the weight of their sadness.

* * *

Dread ran through Yurak's veins and settled low in his stomach as he entered the throne room. He already knew that Zarkon was going to tear him into pieces for the fact that he had retreated from battle on Arus, it was only a matter of how badly he was torn apart. And if that blasted old witch Haggar was present, well, it would make the verbal lashing that much worse.

"Yurak. Come here."

 _This is bad._ The commander tried to show no apprehension as he approached the throne. Zarkon was seated there already, with Haggar standing arrogantly next to him, stroking the equally-blasted blue cat in her arms. "My lord Zarkon," he began, sinking down onto one knee.

The king looked mildly interested, or perhaps sarcastic. "Commander Yurak. I know you have already told me about your retreat, but now I would like for you to relay, in detail, what you saw on Arus to me and Haggar."

Well. He hadn't expected _this_. Worse, he wasn't sure how much lower they were going to drag him. Better to not let his guard down. "I saw five... _lions_...my lord. Five mechanical lions of five different colors. Then they joined into one giant robot."

"It is as I thought," Haggar cackled. "Sarga does not lie. Voltron the Defender has returned."

"So it seems." Zarkon closed his eyes for a moment, deep in thought. "Yurak, though I am not pleased with your retreat, I do understand why you did so. You cannot fight an enemy of this caliber without strategy and weaponry." He glanced over at Haggar. "And help."

"Help, my lord?" Yurak repeated. "What sort of help are you referring to? My fleet is full, and I cannot lead any additional ships."

He laughed. "I'm not granting you additional ships, you fool. It so happens that Haggar has graciously offered help from her lab. She will create robeasts for you, ones which will help you to defeat Voltron."

 _No._ Yurak despised the witch; the last thing he wanted was to haul around one of her creations. What was worse, he loathed the idea of Haggar taking the credit for the mighty robot's defeat. "But my lord, I—"

"No buts." Zarkon's voice rang with authority, tinged with anger. "You will do as _I_ command now. You will _not_ retreat from Arus again, and you _will_ accept Haggar's aid. Do not forget about what happened today, Yurak. I hate to think of what might happen should you fail me again."

He bowed his head. "As you say, my lord Zarkon."

"You are dismissed."

Yurak lifted himself from the ground and headed for the nearest exit. He would never forget about what happened under his watch, nor would he ignore Zarkon's thinly-veiled warning. The next time, he had to be smarter, stronger, faster... _better_.

Or he would die, by either the mighty robot or his king's hand. He wasn't sure which idea he dreaded more.

* * *

 _PS: Next weekend, my brother_ ** _MaveriKat_** _ & I are headed to Hascon in Rhode Island to (possibly, hopefully) meet Peter Cullen (a.k.a. the voice of Commander Hawkins and the narrator in DotU). Wish us luck!_


	11. Don't You Worry Child

_Author's Note_ _: I always wondered why, in DotU and GoLion, Pidge and Hunk went to the forest to speak with the Arusians, while Lance and Keith went to the caves. Eventually I chalked it up to Green Lion having its den in the forest_ — _but still, wouldn't it have made more sense for Pidge to speak with the people in the caves, seeing as how they more or less saved his behind only a couple of episodes earlier?_

 _Oh well, what do I know?_

 _To Emie Mac: Jeff is close to choosing his second. I would love for Netflix to cash in on VV, but for now, I have to write it myself._

 _To Susan: I ended up not going to Hascon (BOO!). My brother heard through the grapevine that the set-up had a lot of kinks in it, and all slots to meet Peter Cullen, Stan Lee, and all the other big names had been filled by Friday morning._

 _To Kava: Thanks for loving Morgan. My guess is, you'll love her even more as the story progresses. And since this story is set in VF and not DotU (though it IS the DotU storyline), Larmina—whom I haven't brought up yet_ — _is six...give or take._

 _To sunshineleo: My darling! It was so lovely to see you, I can't even begin to tell you. That was SUCH a trip highlight for me. I can't wait to get back there. #VegasStrong_

 _To Petronille: It's so good to hear from you! I want Allura to be tougher than she was portrayed in DotU and smarter than in GoLion. And thanks on the baby_ — _she just celebrated her first birthday._

 ** _Title Song: "Don't You Worry Child" by Swedish House Mafia ft. John Martin_**

* * *

"Hey, have you heard the news?"

His fellow student shook his head. He wasn't at the academy for idle chit-chat, nor was he one for gossip. He was there merely to ready himself so that, one day, he could surpass his father's expectations of him and take over the throne. "No." His tone of voice held an underlying threat, a sort of _Leave me alone if you know what's good for you._

Apparently, the way he spoke his answer wasn't good enough. "Are you kidding, man? It's all over the airwaves! It's the only thing streaming!"

"I don't care." The young prince went back to his reading.

"Dude." The young man took his fellow student by the shoulders. " _Voltron_ has returned. Like I said, it's all over the news!"

The prince wrinkled his brow. _"Voltron?_ I thought that was only a legend."

"Not anymore." His classmate winked. "Yeah, it's big news. Voltron was resurrected on Arus."

"On Arus? That pile of rubble?" he scoffed. "Who in the universe was on Arus to witness this spectacle?"

"Apparently, it was one of the fleets from Planet Korrinoth...oh." The student suddenly paled. "Sorry, man."

"Get out of here and leave me to my studies," the young prince hissed. His classmate didn't have to think twice before darting out of the room.

Once he was alone, he leaned back in his chair and thought about what his fellow student had told him. _He said that a fleet from Korrinoth was there. I wonder, which commander was in charge? And if he truly witnessed the rebirth of Voltron, did he fight, or did he turn tail and run?_

The questions bothered him to the point that he stood up and headed to the cafeteria, where he knew he could get a glass of blood wine if he needed it. _And I do need it. Right now. More than ever._

So Prince Lotor Sincline Daibazaal left the safety of the library to face the masses in the cafeteria, where he knew he would be bombarded with questions on the resurrection of Voltron. And why his father's fleet had retreated.

* * *

The communications tower on the balcony of the crumbling castle was merely the first step towards re-establishing Arus in the Galaxy Alliance. It was a baby step; it was fragile and it certainly wouldn't help them fight any battles. Even so, Sven shouldn't have been the one putting it together. This was really a job for Pidge— _he_ was the systems analyst in the group, after all. But no, his four teammates had decided to see if they could recruit the remaining Arusians to join them in the fight against Doom, and they told him point-blank that his accent might put them off.

So there he was, putting up this silly communications tower with the princess keeping him company. It was a good thing that his fiancée was a systems analyst. He _almost_ knew what he was doing by association.

"It looks like it's coming along well," Allura offered encouragingly as he wiped a bead of sweat off his brow. "You know, this is the first time in a long time that any technological advancements were put in place."

"Ha! I would hardly call this a technological advancement, Princess," he snorted.

She lowered her gaze to the ground, crushed.

Immediately, he felt bad. "Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." He spoke gently, pausing what he was doing to look her in the eye. "Sometimes I say things before I even think them." A vision of his _elskede_ suddenly appeared in his mind: black-lipped, hair tousled, wrapped in sheets after they'd closed the deal on that small dorm bed.

 _"Sven, my beloved, sometimes I think you only say nice things to me. You can come across as a real jerk to everybody else."_

 _"But you love me anyway."_

 _"Yes. More than anything."_

He blinked, breaking out of the memory. Without thinking, he removed his shirt in front of the princess, leaving himself in only a black tank top. He didn't care if he was was breaking protocol—it was hot with the sunlight reflecting off the blue lake, and this was not easy work.

Allura didn't seem offended by his actions. Instead, she seemed intrigued, almost as though this was the first time she'd ever seen a partially-undressed man in front of her. Her green eyes skimmed over his body, finally settling on his throat. "What's that?" she asked delicately, pointing to the silver chain around his neck.

Sven inhaled, stalling for time before replying. He wasn't ready to share his story with the princess yet. Lenora was too important—and he loved her too much—to share those intimate details with someone he hardly knew.

"It's not important right now, Princess," he finally responded. That much was true. Right now, the most important thing was getting the tower up and being able to communicate with other planets... _not_ his fiancée's wedding band.

But that didn't mean that it _wasn't_ important. Or that his heart wasn't broken.

* * *

It was his turn to pick up beer. So on the way home from the Academy, David purchased a six-pack of _his_ favorite kind: dark, strong, imported. He was sure that Jamie wouldn't appreciate the choice, but then again, he wasn't the one paying for it, so there was a kind of balance in there somewhere.

"Dude. You're home," Jamie greeted him when he arrived back at their apartment. He'd been on the couch for the past six hours; it was his day off, and he saw no reason to leave the viewscreen for any reason except maybe to use the bathroom. "How'd the day go?"

"If I ever told you that Morgan apologized to me," he began, setting the beer down on the kitchen counter, "would you believe me?"

"Nope."

"How about if it told you that we exchanged phone numbers, ate lunch together, and she suggested that we become study buddies?"

Jamie popped up from the couch to stare down the tall Brit. "Then I'd say you're delusional. Or you actually bought _two_ six-packs and drank the first one on the way home."

"Not true, old chap." David reached into the case for a beer and popped the top off the bottle. "Everything I told you really happened."

"Wow. What was her sudden change of heart? I mean, you told me that she's been treating you like dirt."

David shrugged. "I don't know, but I'll take it. After all, it sure as seven hells is better than what we had going on before." He paused to sip his beer. "Would it bother you to know that she's coming over here to study this weekend?"

Jamie's eyes nearly bugged out of his pale face. "Thanks for the warning, man. I should probably not be dressed in my PJs when she comes over." He motioned to the pajama bottoms and grubby tank top he was wearing. "Now _I_ need a beer."

"A shower wouldn't hurt you, either."

"Shut up, you bloody prat." Jamie popped the cap off his beer, took a swig, and made a face. "Ugh. I hate this stuff."

"I know. But it's _my_ favorite."

"That's the only reason I suck it up." The pale blond stuck his tongue out at his British roommate. "So, tell me more about this Morgan character. You've already told me she's a navigator who excels at math. But what about the important things, man?"

"Like what, exactly?"

"Like, is she single? And if she is, is she _cute_?"

Instead of answering the question, David took a long, hard sip from his bottle. He did not like where these questions were going. For some reason, he had a nagging tug in the pit of his stomach that he was going to have to protect his new study buddy from his roommate.

But the question was, _Why?_

* * *

Lance and Keith had never been the closest of friends. Sure, back at the Academy, they were friendly enough, but in all honesty, the cocky pilot harbored a little bit of resentment towards his new captain, mostly because of all the times his roommate Jeff had to sleep on his floor. On his beanbag chair. Which was a going-away present from his best friend Ronnie, from back in Nebraska.

Looking around, he was reminded that they were a long, _long_ way from Nebraska.

The forests, despite the fact that Zarkon's troops had razed the planet, were still dense, with lush, deep-green foliage. They weren't sure why; perhaps the enemy hadn't entirely destroyed the vegetation and it was able to grow back, or perhaps, being an alien breed, it was far more indestructible than its counterparts on Earth. Not that it mattered. The remainder of the Arusians, the ones who weren't dwelling in the adjacent caves, were hiding here.

They would need help from these people if they ever truly hoped to defeat Zarkon and his troops. Honestly, they would need all the help they could get. And it didn't look like there was much aid coming from Galaxy Garrison, no matter how much time Sven and Allura spent rigging up the communications tower. It was almost as though the five of them had been abandoned.

 _They left us to die._ He toyed with the lighter in his pocket. It made him angry—he'd made something of himself at the Academy, kept his grades and his marksmanship scores up, and _this_ was how he was rewarded? By being left to figure out this mess with no aid from the bigwigs at the Garrison?

 _Some reward._

As his hazel eyes narrowed, he noticed some movement in the background. Keith noticed too, and silenced him with a single look. They definitely were not alone. They had reached the area of the forest where Allura's people had gone into hiding.

They stood unmoving for a moment. Lance was pretty sure that he and Keith had even stopped breathing. Unfortunately, whatever was moving amongst the trees had stopped, too, as if they were all in some sort of weird stalemate or holding pattern.

 _Oh, screw this._ "HELLO!" Lance screeched out, waving his arms in the air.

Keith shot him an outraged expression.

"Oh, come on, Kogane, take off your cranky pants and let's get this show on the road." He was fairly certain he was going to die an agonizing death for his comment, but they had to start a conversation with these Arusians _somehow_. And for some reason, he felt like their fearless leader wasn't exactly the best with the conversational skills.

 _Yeah, well, maybe that's why things were always so awful between him and Morgan. Makes sense enough._ "Hi! My name is Lance, this dude over here is Keith, and we're here to help you save your planet."

The death glare he earned from his companion might have shut anyone else up, but not the cocky pilot. "Dude, what the heck else do you want me to say?" he hissed through clenched teeth. "If you wanna earn these people's trust, you gotta at least tell them your name." He rolled his eyes. "Or did you want me to tell them your name is _Crankypants_?"

Keith narrowed his eyes for a moment, but let the comment slide. Lance had no idea whether or not he had plans to deal with it—and him—later. "So," he continued in his greeting to the Arusians, "does anyone here have any idea how to fight?"

" _That's_ not going to help." The team captain shook his head. "That's not going to help us at all."

* * *

Although they hadn't yet formed Voltron, Captain Newley was fairly insistent that the three teams undergo individual scrutiny. Which was why the Land Team was the only one out practicing.

"This blows," Rocky complained from his perch by the cafeteria window. Staring out at the Land Team as they practiced their formation tactics over and over again, he added, "Wow, man, Cliff's a pretty good team leader."

"And what's _that_ supposed to mean?" Jeff's face grew hot at the insinuation.

"Just what he said," Lisa interrupted in her melodic voice, placing her hand on the Air Team captain's shoulder. "Cliff's doing a good job. Rocky's not making a snide comment about _your_ leadership skills, Jeffrey."

" _Sure_ he wasn't," he muttered under his breath.

Ginger rolled her eyes. "Oh, for the love of Pete, _relax_ , Jeff. Nobody's taking any shots at you. Geez, why you always gotta make things personal?"

"Yeah. You're no better than Hunk," Rocky chimed in, sticking his tongue out.

At those words, Jeff snapped. He lunged at his large fellow pilot, grabbing the collar of his uniform and shaking him. "SHUT THE HECK UP!" he bellowed, accosting the burly pilot with his fists. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

Fellow crew members noticed the skirmish and ran to Rocky's aid. "Jeff! _Jeff!_ Let him go!" Crik demanded as he grabbed the Air Team captain's arms in an effort to restrain him. "What in the name of all that is good in this universe is wrong with you?"

"Yeah, geez!" Chip shrieked, coming to his best friend's defense. "What's wrong with you, Aki?"

"Don't let that hot-headedness get to you, Aki," Ginger warned as she and Lisa inserted themselves between the two arguing teammates. "Be the team captain we _know_ you can be. After all, isn't that what your boy _Keith_ would do?"

The pretty Texan's words punched Jeff in the face better than any fist ever could. "Oh, my God," he uttered in horror, stepping back from the situation and away from an outraged Rocky. "I'm sorry. I am so sorry."

"Yeah. _Sure."_ Rocky, red-faced, glared back at him.

As he felt Jeff's muscles relax, Crik eased up on his grip. "My friend," he warned him with an ominous tone in his voice, "you need to listen to what Ginger said earlier. You need to be the team captain we know you can be. Tamp down that anger in your system, ease up on the worry in your soul, and rise up."

The Air Team captain glanced over at the Brooklynite—his friend, his teammate, his crew member. He already appeared calmer, despite the altercation that had just occurred. Crik's words seemed to have an effect on all of them.

For a moment, no one spoke. No one moved, not even a breath or a blink. Finally, Rocky wrapped his arms around Jeff. "Oh, come here, you freakin' dirtbag. I still love you, no matter how hot-headed you get."

As their surrounding teammates laughed, Jeff felt profoundly relieved. He had to work on reining in his temper. He wouldn't be a successful leader without it.

And to help matters, Crik had taken him a step further in helping him choose his second-in-command.

* * *

"Listen, Little Buddy, I trust you and all, but…"

"Oh, relax, Hunk." Pidge held the torch over his head at the entrance to the caves. "These people rescued me the other day when the Doom troops were trying to kill me. They already know who I am."

Hunk rolled his eyes. "If you say so." He nudged the Baltan forward. "You go first."

Pidge rolled his eyes. _"Fine."_ With a wave of his hand, he beckoned his engineer friend to follow him. "Follow me."

"Following."

The systems analyst led the engineer into the cave. A few feet in, the torch blew out.

 _"Geez!"_ Hunk shrieked, clapping his friend on the shoulders and not letting up on his grip. "Not like it's not dark already or anything in here!"

"Relax, Tsuyo. We're not even ten feet away from the entrance." Pidge reached into his pocket to see if one of his stones—the same he had used as weapons when they first crash-landed on Arus—was flinty enough to relight the torch. "It's not like it's total blackness in here or anything."

Once he'd used the stone to relight the torch, a face swam in front of him. Though he was momentarily shocked, he blinked in gratitude. It was the man who had led him back to the castle, the tall one with the greying hair and matching beard.

 _"Sweet mother of pearl!"_ Hunk yelped, jumping behind Pidge's back.

The systems analyst glared at him over his shoulder. " _You_ , my friend, are a loser." Then he turned back to the grey-haired man. "Greetings, Sir. We mean you no harm. I know you and I have met before, but do you know who we are?"

He nodded a painfully slow nod.

"Good. So then you know that my friends and I are here to resurrect Voltron and save your planet, yes?"

Another nod.

"Will you help us on our mission?"

The grey-haired man, still not speaking, shook his head with the same agonizingly slow speed which he nodded with.

"No?" Pidge frowned, turning to look at a mute Hunk. _Oh, the big guy's useless._ "Why not?"

"We can't." Another voice popped up from behind the patriarch, small and female. A young woman, perhaps the man's granddaughter, spoke for him. "We have nothing to offer in the way of help. Furthermore, we have watched as Zarkon's forces have destroyed Arus...and those who sought to defend her. We are not willing to put our own lives on the line. Not after surviving for this long."

Hunk, having finally found his voice, directed his words towards the pretty young woman. "You mean, you won't help us?"

"We can pray." She stood fast in her convictions. "But we cannot offer you outsiders anything more."

Pidge could tell that his friend was about to blow up, and placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him down. "We will accept prayers," he answered, effectively shutting the large engineer up. "Keep them coming as we fight for your planet." Then, turning his head back towards Hunk, he added, "Come on, Tsuyo. Let's get out of here."

Hunk didn't look as though he was about to accept defeat, but Pidge refused to back down. Grabbing his friend's hand, he nearly dragged the big guy out of the cave. "I _said_ , let's get out of here, Tsuyoshi."

The systems analyst wasn't sure how he managed to drag Hunk out of the cave. But he _was_ sure that the five of them, outside of any help from Allura and Coran, were on their own.

* * *

Once alone in her apartment, Morgan opened her messenger bag and pulled out her ionic notepad to begin studying. _What the heck was I thinking, going to grad school to become an Academy instructor? These classes have_ _nothing_ _to do with navigation._

It was no use. She was too agitated to study. With a scowl, she put the notepad down and headed to the bathroom, where she had hung a full-length mirror on the back of the door.

Inside, the first thing she did was study her hair. The long, glossy black locks, shot with threads of aubergine and cerulean, were nearly down to her waist now. She'd always had to wear it that length; Keith's hair had been so long, and her pride wouldn't allow her to have a shorter style than his.

Now, though, he was gone. She had every right to cut her hair if she wanted to. After all, like she'd informed him, Jeff, and Lance the night they'd all swapped roommates as an engagement present to Lenora and Sven, she was a free agent now. She could do as she pleased.

 _Maybe after mid-terms._ That was the easy part. A haircut would be no problem compared to the _other_ issue she had associated with Keith Kogane.

Morgan removed her shirt and undid the zipper on her pants, pushing the waistline down past her hips before turning her backside to the mirror. Looking over her shoulder, she studied as best she could the final—and lasting—vestige of their failed relationship.

The tattoo.*

It was the outline of a _K_ in block script, surrounded by a small, trailing vine of leaves. The stark black lines were in sharp contrast to the white skin of her lower back. _A tramp stamp. Ugh. I am such a cliché that I wanna throw up._

She was so annoyed that now she was marked for life on account of her drunken stupidity over an ex-boyfriend. Granted, she _could_ go the laser removal route, but she didn't have the resources for that at the moment, not with those tuition checks due to the Garrison. It seemed like she was stuck with it for now.

She swore to herself that she would never, _ever_ tell anyone who didn't already know what the initial stood for about it. Not only was it embarrassing, but she didn't want to think about it anymore.

Soon enough, though, she would. And when she did, she would do something to erase it from her skin and, hopefully, that night from her memory. Until then, though, she couldn't worry about it. Because she didn't have the means to do anything about it.

* * *

The ship was spectacular.

 _I've never been in something this grand, let alone been in charge of it,_ Hazar thought giddily as he looked over the bridge of the command ship which Emperor Zeppo had charged him with. _What a terrible burden. But what an honor._

He explored the main station, the seat which would be claimed as his. Running his fingers over the stiff red leather, he felt a weight press down on his shoulders. He thought for a split second that it was the proverbial weight, but no, it was two hands clamping down on him from behind.

"It's pretty spectacular, isn't it?"

The words startled him, but he reined it in. "It _is_ ," he agreed in an even voice before turning to face who had snuck up on him.

Mongo Drake. His fellow commander—the only one he liked _or_ trusted, come to think of it—had gotten the better of him, following him onto his new ship. "It's a little nicer than mine," he admitted without a hint of jealousy in his voice. "But then again, I think Zeppo thinks more highly of you than he does of me." He shrugged. "Of any of us, really."

"That's not true." Even as he said it, Hazar knew his words were a lie. His father Mozak was a trusted member of Zeppo's council, and the emperor had known him for a long time now. "He never would have promoted any of us if he didn't deem us worthy."

At least _that_ was the truth.

"Fair enough." One side of Mongo's mouth curled up in a smile. "Even so, I think he is still partial to _you_. So don't disappoint us, you hear me?"

"I'll try my best." Even so, he didn't know if he was convincing enough.

* * *

"Well, _that_ sure didn't work."

Pidge, Hunk, Lance and Keith sat at the edge of the cliff alongside the battered Castle of Lions. Angry, the young systems analyst hurled one of his stones into the ravine below. How had that beautiful body of water been spared from Doom's attacks? "I can't believe these people. How could they _not_ want to help?"

"I hear ya, Little Buddy." Hunk looked forlorn. "How could they not want to save their planet?"

"They're scared," Keith answered. "They feel scared and helpless."

"Yeah, I know," Pidge answered. "But even so, there are fates worse than death. I know I'd rather die if it meant I had to live under Zarkon Daibazaal's thumb. You'd think that they'd want to at least do something to help us defeat the enemy."

"I agree," Lance chimed in. "It stinks knowing that we could train an army kinda like a National Guard to help us out, and there's nobody who wants to join in."

"And just when were we gonna find time to train a National Guard?" Hunk asked.

Keith exhaled in disgust.

"Hey, none of that matters now." Pidge looked over his shoulder at the castle in the background. "I just don't want to disappoint _her_."

At those words, Keith also looked over his shoulder. Like Pidge, he couldn't imagine disappointing Allura, but there was no way he would ever admit that to any of his teammates. They would have a field day with that information.

Suddenly, it dawned on him that he wanted to be a champion for the princess in a way he hadn't wanted for Morgan. _No way. I can't have those types of feelings for Allura. I'm here to protect her and her planet,_ _not_ _to get into any sort of relationship with her._ "Regardless of Allura, we have a job to do here, people. We have to resurrect Voltron and use it to defeat Planet Korrinoth."

Maybe that sounded convincing. But it probably didn't.

* * *

* See "We Are Young" for more details


	12. Crash Into Me

_Author's Note_ _: Happy Halloween (and Happy Thanksgiving, too)! I'm posting this chapter early because I am officially undertaking #NaNoWriMo2017. There will be nothing but original fiction on my agenda for the next 30 days. See you all in December!_

 _To Susan: Yes, you did try to warn me. Maybe I'll listen next time. Wah._

 _To WarzonePrez: I'm trying to insert a whole lot of Vehicle Voltron. Wait until you see what goes down in a couple more chapters…_

 _To Emie Mac: If you like how Jeff's temper flared now, against Rocky, just wait until he starts to honk off Commander Hawkins...that's all I have to say..._

 ** _Title Song: "Crash Into Me" by Dave Matthews Band_**

* * *

Yurak hated his life at this very moment. He cursed himself, Zarkon, Voltron, those five blasted space explorers, even Ba'al and all his accursed fellow gods as he descended upon the witch's sacred chambers.

Haggar. He had to work with _Haggar._ He loathed the witch; hated the fact that Zarkon had ordered him to seek aid from her. _It's not fair,_ he moaned in his head, all the while knowing for sure that life never really was, no matter how much he wanted to complain about it.

He continued to vent over the situation to himself, silently fuming and glowering, right up until the moment he landed at the witch's doorstep. And even then, he wasn't quite sure that he'd given up the sour expression on his face.

"Yurak. You have _finally_ arrived." Her tone of voice was smug, so sure of his inevitable failure, that she almost seemed amused. It made him want to smack her across her wrinkly blue face.

"Of course." He attempted to keep his words even. He was fairly certain that he had failed. Miserably.

She glowered at him as he stepped over the threshold of her chambers. He wasn't trespassing, exactly—he'd been ordered to be there. And it wasn't as though he was happy about it, either. He had a sinking suspicion that the only reason Haggar was going along with this plan was to ingratiate herself to their king.

 _If it gets her closer to her ultimate goal, she'll do it. She's no better than a common whore, except that she's not selling her body._ He almost laughed aloud at the idea, but had the good sense to stop himself. _Not that there'd be any buyers._

"Yurak." She motioned towards her inner sanctum, her altar to her gods and goddesses. "I wasn't lying when I told King Zarkon that I wanted to help you. It _is_ in our best interests, after all. Not just the planet's. _Ours."_

 _What in the name of Ba'al is the old witch playing at?_ "Of _course_ it is in our best interests to defeat Voltron, old witch. We must establish ourselves as the most powerful planet—with the most powerful army—in the universe!"

She looked over her shoulder at him, annoyed. "You did not listen to me, Commander Yurak. It is in our best interests to prevail. Yes, it will be a great boon to our reputation to establish how powerful our warriors and armies are, but to defeat the mighty Voltron...well, _that_ is a feat allowed only to the deities. And should you and I establish ourselves as strong as the deities, then we shall be…"

 _We—well,_ _I_ — _shall be granted immortality and limitless magic._ _You_ _shall be given nothing, for you are not of the Wyvern._ There was no way that Haggar would give Yurak this information, though. After all, she had already assessed him. He was merely a pawn.

And a fool.

"We shall be feared across the universe!" the commander roared, excitement glittering in his one eye. "We'll be able to crush every single entity who dares to cross our paths! We shall own every planet and all the gold in all the solar systems!"

 _Close enough._ The witch nodded in agreement. "Then you would accept my help, it seems?"

"Yes, Witch."

It was the kindest name Yurak had ever bestowed upon her. "Then come see what I've been working on. I have chosen a creature from the fighting pits. He was destined to become a robeast, you see. And not only a robeast... _the_ robeast. The one which will bring Voltron to its knees."

He followed, eager to watch the process in which Haggar would transform a pit monster into a powerful robeast. Now he felt entirely different about her magic, even though her lair still creeped all of Ba'al's hells out of him. She could be the key to his rise to glory.

Or to his demise.

* * *

Tech Sargeant Sparks was always at the forefront of the Explorer. He wasn't the commander or the captain, not by a long shot— _Though we all might be better off if I was,_ he sometimes grumbled to himself—but he was still the first to know nearly everything that came across their ship's path. He was _also_ the first to learn of any of the ship's gossip, but that was beside the point.

Now he was the first to learn about something... _exciting_.

He blinked at first, wondering if it was possible. Had he actually found what they were looking for? Had they stumbled upon a new planet to colonize? His fingers clicking furiously, he began the initial scan to find out whether or not there were any indigenous races.

There were none. _It's empty,_ he thought with profound disbelief.

He ran a few more initial test just to be sure, but he was nearly bursting at the seams with excitement. "Commander Hawkins! Captain Newley! I have a new, uncolonized planet on the radar!"

Hawkins was by the tech sargeant's side in two strides. "You're joking," he deadpanned, his dark gaze piercing the screen. "Are you sure? How did we come by an empty planet so quickly?"

"We're just that lucky?" Newley joined them, at a considerably slower pace than the commander. "Wow, look at that planet. Are you _sure_ it's not colonized?"

Sparks shook his head in frustration. "What's the matter, gentlemen? Do you think the lowly tech sargeant doesn't know anything about running computer scans on a planet?"

"Sorry, Sparks." The commander's face held a hint of amusement. " _Of course_ we trust your judgment. It's just that... _how_ many years have we been aboard the Explorer, and we haven't seen an uncolonized planet in _how_ long? It seems impossible that we've barely been in orbit and already found one."

"I always said we were Moriarty's lucky charms," Newley cracked.

Ignoring the ship's captain, Hawkins formed a plan off the top of his head. "We should send the teams out there to investigate. Then, once they give the all-clear, we can contact the Garrison and have them send support fleets and building crews."

"You make it sound so easy, Jon." Newley, having become serious for a moment, glowered at the statistics on the viewscreen. "Even if this _is_ a good planet, Earth is hardly in a position to claim it without breaching contract with the rest of the planets in the Galaxy Alliance. We should contact Space Marshall Graham and give him a heads-up."

"Agreed." Hawkins gave his friend a short nod. "Rich, you get in touch with the Garrison and let them know what we've found. I'll assemble the Voltron Force and send them out for exploration."

"Deal," Newley agreed, "except that I think I've got the easy end."

The commander knew that his friend was referring to the debacle that was Captain Jeff Aki and his inability to choose a second-in-command, but he shrugged it off. After all, he'd rather deal with Voltron than with the Garrison bigwigs. His uncle had always been better at that than he was, anyway. "That's what _you_ think, Rich."

* * *

The chalice was filled to the top with blood wine. When the slave girl handed the goblet to him, Zarkon grabbed it eagerly, greedily lifting it to his lips and drinking like it was water.

It was good to be king.

The pleasantries, however, did not last for long. "Sire," one of his guards came forth, "you have a message of the utmost importance."

"Bah. What could be more important than my blood wine?" Zarkon drained the goblet, his reptilian hands gripping the handle with a fearsome strength.

The guard winced. It would be so easy for the king to throw the chalice at him in a fit of impromptu rage, leaving him with a bruised face...or worse. "It is from King Cova of Planet Pollux, Sire. Would you like me to patch the message through to the throne room?"

"Oh, _fine_." Zarkon seemed bored. "SLAVE GIRL! MORE WINE!"

As the girl scurried to refill his chalice, the guard set up the viewscreen so that the king could receive the message from the comfort of his throne. Zarkon sipped at the new wine in his goblet, temporarily sedated enough to receive a call from a fellow dignitary whom he loathed, but could not show his true feelings to yet. _Cova and his blasted planet might serve me some use._

The malicious white-bearded countenance belonging to the Polluxian ruler lit up the screen. "Zarkon," he snarled in greeting. "I suppose you've yet to think over my offer."

The king of Korrinoth appeared bored, putting up a calm veneer while seething underneath. _Of_ _course_ _I've thought over your offer, you blasted fool. I just haven't decided what I want to do with it yet._ "Cova," he answered, keeping his voice smooth and even, "that's not the correct way to greet a fellow royal."

He was taunting the Polluxian monarch and he knew it, but he couldn't help himself.

Much to his surprise, Cova ignored his remark. "I wasn't joking around with you when I sent my proposal. I offer up my beautiful daughter Romelle as a bride and queen to your son Lotor, and in return, I ask for your aid in destroying Pollux's twin planet, Arus... _which_ , if I recall," he sneered, "has been your intent all along. Though," he added snarkily, "it doesn't seem that way from recent reports."

 _Pompous louse. It would be fun to destroy him._ "What do you have to offer me, Cova? Aside from a marriage which, of course, would be of no benefit to _me_. Your daughter's pretty face might entice my idiot son, but I can't see how it would help me in demolishing Arus."

Cova's face contorted slightly, just enough for Zarkon to see that he had struck a nerve. "You _do_ know that my oldest child, Prince Avok, is my planet's strongest man and bravest warrior, do you not?"

"What are you proposing? That _he_ should marry Lotor instead?" _Oh, this is great fun. I'm so glad I took this call._

"Of course not." Now Cova appeared angered, perhaps rightfully so. "I've heard stories about your witch, Zarkon. The one who worships Sarga of the Wyvern. She has powerful magic, and I believe that she has the ability to transform my son into the greatest warrior the universe has ever seen. He alone would be a weapon—no, _the_ weapon—to use against Arus and destroy it."

"Hmm. _That's_ interesting." The portion of Zarkon's mind which wasn't clouded over with alcohol truly _was_ interested. "You must be hells-bent on taking over Arus if you're willing to sacrifice your own son to the cause."

"I am." The Polluxian ruler never flinched. "Between the two of us, Zarkon, my son will not survive. Even _if_ he does not die in battle—let's face it, he is strong enough to defeat Voltron with your witch's aid—he remains a mere mortal. Should Haggar transform him into a robeast, he will never fully recover from the process, mentally or physically. I already know this. Avok does not."

"The bottom line is," Zarkon mused, "in exchange for our aid, you are willing to sacrifice both your daughter _and_ your son. Is that what you're telling me?"

Cova's face was like stone. "Yes."

"Tell me, do they know of their sacrifices, or are they merely following your orders blindly? You are, after all, sending them to the slaughter like lambs."

"My children will do what it best for Pollux!" he replied hotly. "They do not ask questions. They only follow orders."

 _He is more psychotic than I gave him credit for._ Zarkon wrapped his fingers tightly around the goblet. "Then, if it is truly your wish to sacrifice your son to destroy Arus— _and_ marry your daughter off to Lotor—then I don't see how I could possibly turn down your proposal."

Cova's stony face turned, his lips curling upward in satisfaction. "So then, you accept my proposal," he repeated, his stance and countenance softening. "Romelle will be Lotor's wife and queen, and Avok, aided by Haggar's magic, will be the greatest champion that both Pollux and Korrinoth have ever seen."

"Indeed." Zarkon was growing bored of this conversation. "Have you anything else to add, Cova?"

"No." He shook his head. "I am beyond pleased by what has transpired here."

"Very good." Zarkon waved his free hand at the screen. "When the time is right, I will call upon you and your children. I expect that you will be at the ready, my friend. For you never know when I will send your invitation to Doom."

Without waiting for a response, he cut off the transmission.

 _He is one sick bastard indeed. But if he is truly willing to sacrifice his son in an effort to defeat Arus, then I won't turn it down._ He swallowed the remaining wine in his goblet. _As for his daughter...Lotor will marry whichever woman he wishes. Perhaps he'll marry Romelle, perhaps he won't. But I'll let him have his fun with her._

It was a very satisfactory call for Zarkon and the royalty of Korrinoth, indeed. Unfortunately for Cova and his children, they had no idea that they had just been taken advantage of.

* * *

Jeff could hardly contain his excitement at the team's first set of orders. They were off to explore a planet. They weren't just playing at Voltron again, they were actually doing what they'd been hired to do, meaning that they were finally doing something in their job description. The Air Team captain did everything in his power _not_ to show how eager he was. He had to appear cool at all costs, if only to show Commander Hawkins that he wasn't going to screw this mission up.

"This is _so_ great!" Chip squeaked, gripping at the controls of his Advanced Recon Helicopter. "I can't believe we're _finally_ going out on a mission!"

"Not just practicing," Rocky added. "Yeah, I can't wait to get out there and bust some skulls."

"Actually, Rocky, we _won't_ be busting skulls," Wolo corrected the Brooklynite patiently. "We're simply exploring a new planet. And only the sky of this new planet, no less. I don't see how we could possibly—"

" _Anything_ is possible in space, Wolo," Ginger interrupted him.

 _She's right._ Jeff was suddenly proud of Ginger; a strong, undeniable pride that attracted him even more to the fiery blond. "Ellington is right," he spoke into the monitor, careful that only his four Air Team pilots should hear. " _Anything_ is possible in space. I'm sure Cliff and Crik are telling their Sea and Land Teams the same thing. Everyone be on alert. I don't want to start a fight, but I'll be more than happy to finish it."

"You and that hot temper of yours," Rocky beamed.

* * *

Coming so soon after his conversation with Cova and his multiple chalices of blood wine, Zarkon _almost_ thought that there was something wrong with his vision when Yurak and Haggar entered the throne room together. As the witch and the commander greeted him with bows and genuflection, he realized that no, he could see fine, and this was definitely happening.

He was going to require more wine.

"Sire," Haggar began, her face covered by her hood, "Commander Yurak has been to my lab."

Before the king could retort, Yurak stood up. "I have seen what the witch has to offer my forces. She has created a mighty robeast, one which is larger and more powerful than Voltron. Sire, I ask that you allow us to begin the attack on Arus immediately."

Zarkon appeared mildly interested. "The destruction of Arus is on the forefront of my mind always," he snarled. "While I appreciate that you've asked me permission to begin an attack, I'd rather you go ahead and attack... _and be victorious_ , I might add."

The commander's one eye gleamed with excitement. "Thank you, Sire. We shall do you proud and be victorious."

The king waved his hand at them. "You are dismissed."

As Yurak and Haggar turned their backs on the throne, the commander leaned into the witch. "Then it's a good thing," he whispered, "that Zarkon gave us his blessing. After all, the troops are already halfway to Arus by now."

The witch only nodded in reply.

* * *

Captain Newley's fingers were tingling with excitement as he keyed in the code for Galaxy Garrison.

Irreverent as he was, the captain rarely cared about what happened with the brass, nor was he the type to ask for permission for every little thing he did aboard what was now his ship. _Okay, well, mine and Jon's._ However, even he knew it was best not to overstep the High Command. _You never know if the toes you step on today will be connected to the butt you have to kiss tomorrow._

In his quarters—which, he lamented, weren't nearly as nice as the commander's—he queued up the computer and sent a transmission to home base. Galaxy Garrison was notoriously difficult to contact; the only reason he was able to reach out in the first place was because he had made friends with a certain Lieutenant Brown over the years, allowing for the ease of making direct contact with one of the Space Marshall's inner circle.

Clicking in the direct code, Newley was shocked when his friend didn't answer the transmission. One of Brown's cohorts opened it instead. _Wow, this might be even_ _better_ _._

"I'm looking for Don Brown," he told the woman in question. "Why isn't he answering his direct line?"

She was lovely, with chestnut locks and warm chocolate-brown eyes. "I'm sorry, Sir. He's in the restroom. I'll fetch him for you."

"No. Don't bother." He gazed at her image over the screen. _Since_ _when_ _does old man Graham hire hot chicks?_ "I need to get in touch with the Space Marshall. Do you think you could patch me in?"

"Sir, I'm a systems analyst at my core. There's never been a computer system built that I can't patch you into."

"Good. Then do it." He hadn't meant to be so abrupt, but he couldn't spend any more time than necessary talking to this lovely young lady. _Too bad. Maybe I'll catch her again later._ "Please," he remembered to add, a moment too late.

"Of course." She had barely clicked on her keyboard when he lost her image, instead being transferred to Graham's office.

"Newley, is that you?" the Space Marshall squinted at the screen. "Please don't tell me that you're having problems and I need to send Moriarty to chase after the Explorer. The man _is_ retired, after all."

"And I hope he's working on his golf game, too." Newley shook his head. "No, Sir. We've found a planet. It appears to be uninhabited. Commander Hawkins has sent the Voltron Force out to explore. But we wanted to let you and the High Command know, because if this _is_ a new, livable world for us, you may want to alert the rest of the planets in the Galaxy Alliance before we claim it for Earth."

The white-bearded man nodded. "I shall do that. Space Marshall out."

"Newley out." He closed the transmission with Graham and backed away from the viewscreen. He felt relieved at finally completing the task; despite the fact that it had taken more effort than he'd wanted to contact the Garrison, he'd been successful.

 _Who_ _was_ _that girl, anyway?_ he wondered as he pulled away from the viewscreen. _She was_ _hot_ _._

* * *

Hazar was surprised that Emperor Zeppo wasn't there to see him off.

Being the most prominent of the newly-elected Drule officers—after all, his father _was_ chancellor—Hazar had been selected to leave the planet and start on his exploration first. He wasn't surprised that his parents and Dorma were there to send him off, and he was pleased that Captains Mongo, Twyla and Nerok had joined in the celebration as well.

"I'm nervous. Are you?" Dorma leaned into her brother. "I'll miss you, Hazar. Who else will help me rein in Mom's worry and Dad's big head?"

Hazar couldn't help but laugh. "You'll be fine, Dorma. I have nothing but faith in you."

She stuck out her tongue. "Thanks a _lot_."

They both laughed, and he embraced his sister. "Regardless, I'll miss you. Promise me that you won't forget about me while I'm gone."

"Oh, Hazar Teles, I could _never_ forget about my big brother." She closed her pink-rimmed eyes as she laid her head against his shoulder. She was worried—what would she do if something happened to him on his mission? What if he was hurt, or worse, _died_? "Make sure you return home safely."

"I will return home a hero."

She blinked. "You're already a hero in _my_ eyes."

He rested his chin atop his sister's head for a moment. He would miss her very much; they had done everything together. They were like partners in crime in the best way. Was it even possible for him to go on this adventure without her? Probably not, but he was going to have to anyway.

 _"Aww._ Isn't that _sweet_."

His ears pricked up as he caught the woman's sarcastic tone of voice, and he lifted his chin off the top of his sister's head. As he did, he caught sight of one of his fellow peers, hand-chosen by Zeppo himself. "Twyla."

The newly-instated captain, with her fair purple skin and pink-rimmed eyes, crossed her arms over her chest as she studied the brother and sister. Hazar didn't like _or_ appreciate the condescending expression on her face. "You know," she pointed out flippantly, "Nerok is taking off at the same time as you are. I wonder, who will find a new planet for our Emperor first?"

As Hazar opened his mouth to retort, his sister cut him off. "Ignore her," Dorma hissed, narrowing her eyes at the sarcastic woman with the pale aqua hair. "She's not as high up in rank as you are. She's only a captain to your rank of commander."

Whether or not the insult hit, Twyla backed away, leaving the siblings to finish their good-byes. Then, hiding the mournful feelings within him, Hazar smiled at Dorma and waved as he boarded his ship.

 _That Twyla is a piece of trash,_ he thought as he looked over his new bridge and crew. If he was fortunate, he'd be dealing more with Mongo than the woman he'd encountered, though he didn't believe he'd be that lucky.

* * *

 _There. I've finally finished it._

Sven was slow to anything in communications, and not just because he was quiet himself. The only reason he even got this far with the tower was because he'd paid so much attention to Lenora over the past five years. He couldn't help it—he loved his fiancée so much that he'd picked up on every last detail about her.

It hurt being away from her. _But it's only temporary. I'll be back on Earth before we know it._

He wondered if she had gone home to Westchester, beginning to plan their wedding with her mother. He grinned at the idea of his _elskede_ trying on wedding gowns, twirling in front of the mirror in a confection of white silk and lace, trying to decide which one to marry him in. How she might look walking down the aisle towards him, her gleaming chestnut hair twisted away from her lovely face, exposing her long neck and pale shoulders.

Once they made it home, she would finally—after five long years—be his wife, and they would never be separated again.

"Sven? Arus to Sven! Come in, Sven, come in!"

Her sweet voice jolted him back to the present. Allura was staring at him, almost as though she'd been studying him as he spaced out. It was... _embarrassing._

"Sorry about that, Princess."

"No sorrier than we are." Sven and Allura both glanced over her shoulder at the boys. The remaining four space explorers had returned to the castle, and from the obvious expressions on their faces, with not-so-great news.

Lance jammed his hands into the pockets of his brown leather bomber jacket. "We come bearing bad news."

Allura's brow wrinkled. "Oh? What is it?"

"Yeah." Keith, appearing perplexed, crossed his arms over his chest. "It seems as though none of your subjects are willing to help us fight against Doom, Princess. It's all up to us."

She shook her head remorsefully. "That's disappointing," she agreed sadly. "But I can't say that I don't understand. My people have been to hell and back in this war against Zarkon. I don't blame them for not wanting to stick out their necks."

"Yeah, but it stinks for _us_." Hunk was not one to mince words.

Chatter broke out among the group. Sven recognized complaining from Lance, Hunk and Pidge; Keith's commanding words to hush them; Allura's soothing tones to pacify them. He was only paying half-attention. Something was in the air, electric and heavy.

Something which would shatter their atmosphere... _or_ elevate it to the next level, however one decided to look on it.

He didn't know why he acted before he knew what was happening. _"Duck!"_ he screeched, lunging at the princess and knocking her to the ground.

There it was. Whatever ammunition had been fired exploded once it crashed into the stone wall behind them, proof positive that the first shot had been made... _and_ that Sven's instincts had been dead-on.

"What the heck was _that_?" Lance cried out.

Keith looked into the sky, squinting and shielding his eyes. "Look out, guys," he gasped as Doom's warships appeared on the horizon. "We've got company!"

The princess and her Voltron Force stood open-mouthed for roughly ten seconds, allowing the enormity of the situation to settle upon them. After swallowing, she took charge of the situation. "To the lions! _Now!"_

"You heard the princess," Keith echoed. "We _go_!"

Five space explorers took off running towards the control room. Allura lifted up her skirts and followed, keeping pace with them. Nothing good would come of her being out here now. She had to get to the weapons console and back Voltron up in their oncoming battle.


	13. Savior

_Author's Note_ _: Now, if you've been reading this far, you know I have no love for the space mice. (A smidge? OK, maybe a smidge. For_ ** _WarzonePrez_** _.) That being said, I understand that those little rodents drew the first five episodes out to, well, five episodes. I'm not so all-embracing; I like to cut to the chase._

 _I'd also like to add that I always thought it was funny that Sven wore the black uniform. Usually, the color black signals the team leader. I know that Dynamite tried to explain this by saying that Sven was the original team leader, but was forced to step down due to his drug problems. That's why I find Netflix's Voltron reboot to be genius; Sven/Shiro IS the team leader, and I like to reflect a little of that in my stories._

 _And in case anyone would like to know, #NaNoWriMo2017 was...well, not a_ _total_ _failure, but I sure didn't hit 50,000 words._

 _To Susan: I'm getting there with this story. A lot of groundwork had to be laid down first. And maybe Hascon next year? If they can get their act together, that is._

 _To Emie Mac: I haven't decided on the Vegemite yet. Though, when I went to Sydney in 2013, I tasted the stuff...and yeah, it was AWFUL._

 ** _Title Song: "Savior" by Rise Against_**

* * *

There was no reason for him to be on her mind, but he was anyway.

Morgan couldn't get her ex-boyfriend out of her head, and she didn't know why. Maybe it was her meeting with Christiane. How did she love that girl so much already? Especially knowing how things had ended with her brother, it seemed like it should have been impossible.

 _I don't hate you, Keith. I really don't. But I can't save you, either._ Her lower lip quivered for a moment, her nose and eyes stinging. _There might not be anything left to save, anyway._

Knowing that it would be useless to try to study any further in this state of mind, Morgan switched her ionic notepad off and rolled off her bed. She too lived in a little studio apartment in the Valley, in a building not far away from her Wifey's, so she didn't have to travel far to get to the kitchen… _or_ to her oldest friend's place. In front of the refrigerator, she stood for a moment in her T-shirt and yoga pants before retrieving the bottle of vodka from the freezer.

She stood off by the counter as she poured a shot into a tumbler, filling it the rest of the way with cold seltzer water. Briefly, she thought of Sven, which caused her to add a lime to the concoction. Her fellow navigator had always liked his vodka drinks, after all.

As she took a sip, she felt her body—and, more importantly, her mind—relax. Setting the drink on her bedside table, she flopped onto the mattress and laid her head back on the pillow. She closed her eyes and thought of Keith again, briefly, before forcing herself to think of other, newer things. And people.

An image of David Rackens popped up behind her eyelids, and she smiled. Despite being an arrogant twit whenever he'd beat Lance in the shooting competitions, he was actually a decent guy. Come to think of it, had he _really_ been an arrogant twit back then, or had she simply made up her mind about him? Had she been so busy rooting for her floormate that she'd only imagined his opponent as a jerk?

 _Might as well find out._

She fumbled around for her phone, scrolling through her list of contacts—not that there were many—until she found him. Tapping on his name, she held her breath, wondering if he would answer.

The phone rang twice, then three times, before he picked up. "Hello?" he answered, his British accent crisp and perfect. _Of course it is._

"Hi, David. It's Morgan."

"Morgan! How nice to hear from you." Somehow, she didn't doubt that he was telling the truth. "What's wrong? Did you lose your lecture notes again?"

"I'm not calling about class, David."

Over the phone, she could almost hear him lift his eyebrows. "No?"

"No."

"Then what _are_ you calling about, pray tell?"

"I...I'm not sure. I wanted to talk to someone, I think." The drink began to take its desired effect on her brain, filling her with courage. "My friends, they don't wanna hear the reason I'm off-kilter tonight. They've heard enough about it over the past five years."

"Oh?" he laughed. "So you want to fill _me_ in?"

"Yeah." Even though she sounded stupid, she couldn't help herself. "If you wouldn't mind."

He was silent for a moment. "No. Of course not. Out with it, Love. What's the issue?"

She inhaled. She needed one of her Wifey's long yoga breaths to get the story out. Sipping from her drink, she began, "I don't even know where to start."

"How about at the beginning?"

"Nah, that'll take _way_ too long."

"All right then, give me the abridged version." He paused before adding, "Please."

 _He's so proper, despite himself._ In a way, she was growing fond of her British seatmate. He really wasn't such a bad guy, and she was sorry she'd pre-judged him. "Okay, well, I dated the same guy, on and off, for the entire time I was at the Academy. And then, the day after graduation, he left on a mission. And that was it for us."

"Oh? That's all?" He paused.

"What do you _mean_ , that's all?"

He scoffed, "You broke up with your boyfriend, you haven't seen him in, what, three or four months, and now you can't stop thinking about him? It's a tale older than dirt, my dear." Then, under his breath, he added, "That's how it is for _all_ of us."

She heard him, but because she had committed to behaving in front of him, she decided not to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. "Okay then, so I won't ask youfor any details about _your_ pathetic love life. But how about we promise each other this? Any time I feel sad and want to call my ex, I'll call you. And you do the same with me whenever you feel the same way."

"Oh dear." He thought it over for a moment. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt."

"Great!" _Little too enthusiastic there, Feld. Might want to slow down on the drinking._ "So, we'll be in touch, then? About stuff _other_ than school?"

He sighed. "As you like, Love."

"Cool. Thanks, David."

"You're very welcome, Morgan."

She smiled to herself as she ended their communication. _Maybe he's_ _not_ _so bad,_ she reasoned. _Maybe Len was right after all, he's really cool. Maybe he's the sort of good, stable guy I should be dating._

Or maybe she'd had too much vodka.

* * *

Bandor came running down the hallway, eager to catch up to his older siblings. He, along with Avok and Romelle, had been summoned to the throne room to meet with their father. From the sound of things, it was gravely important.

He was the last one there; his older siblings had already gathered and stood in front of their father. Cova was seated on the throne, looking down at them with equal parts disdain and ambition. "Bandor. You're late."

"I'm sorry, Father." He took his place next to his sister. Romelle was still dressed in her mourning attire, the long black dress and matching lace veil covering her face. He took her hand for comfort—hers or his own, he didn't know. Or care. "I came as quickly as I could."

Cova and Avok exchanged knowing glances, ones which left Romelle and Bandor out of the loop...again. _They've been doing that a_ _lot_ _lately,_ the younger prince noted, gazing up at his sister. _I don't like it. I don't trust them._

"I have spoken with King Zarkon of Planet Korrinoth," Cova began.

 _"Doom?"_ Romelle repeated, taken aback. Her eyes glowed with worry through her mourning veil. "Why would you have begun communications with _Doom_?"

The king smiled, obviously pleased with the deal he'd struck. " _You_ , my dear daughter, have been betrothed to Zarkon's son, Lotor Sincline. When they call upon us, we shall travel to Korrinoth, and you will marry the prince."

Both Romelle and Bandor gasped, horrified. "Father," the younger prince stammered, "you don't really mean that."

"I do indeed." The king turned his steely gaze towards his oldest child, ignoring the sobs from his daughter. "And you, Avok...Zarkon has approved of our deal. _You_ are to be turned into a robeast by Haggar's magic, as we have previously discussed."

The older prince's face turned somber, but he knelt down onto one knee in front of his remaining parent. "As you wish, Father. I will become the greatest fighter and champion this universe has ever seen."

"You shall. Zarkon believes it, as well."

Romelle rushed out of the throne room to throw up. She didn't know which was more horrifying: the fact that her father had disengaged her from her beloved Tristan and betrothed her to _Lotor_ , or that Avok was happy to become a robeast on their father's orders to destroy Arus.

 _Or worse,_ she thought as she leaned over the toilet and deposited her stomach contents, _the fact that he's more than happy to offer up his two children to that madman Zarkon and destroying our lives in the process, and he doesn't feel the_ _least_ _bit guilty about it._

* * *

Keith traveled down the elevator and to his Black Lion with grim determination. As the shuttle moved, his heart pounded and his mind flashed with images of all the people who'd hoped to save...or forget.

 _Mom and Dad._ Wherever they were. He hoped they knew that he loved him, that he'd only ever wanted to do them proud. And if he met with them sooner rather than later, well, at least there would be two people welcoming him with open arms as he navigated into the depths of eternal rest.

 _Jeff._ His best friend, his Academy roommate. Aside from his four brothers-in-arms on this mission with him, he'd been the best friend a guy could ask for. He was only sorry that the last time he saw him might really have been the _last_ time he saw him.

 _Morgan._ The only woman he'd ever loved in his short life, no matter how much they'd clashed or argued or been wrong for each other. He had loved her, he _had_. It didn't matter that they were never right for each other, that they were never meant to be. He'd still loved her to the best of his flawed ability. Now he would never have the chance to tell her that.

 _Christy. My Eiko-chan._ He'd blown it, he really had. All those years spent wondering where she was, how she was doing...and then, when she was right in front of his face at the Academy, he'd turned her away. At the time, he couldn't handle seeing her. The gravity of their history was too much for him to deal with. If he could be honest, at this moment, he still wasn't sure that he could handle seeing her. But he regretted it all the same.

The seat in his shuttle reached the end of its journey, lifting him into Black Lion. As he placed the key in the ignition, one more person flashed through his mind, this one perhaps leaving an even bigger hole in his heart.

 _Allura. If we don't make it, I'm sorry. But please know that I tried my best._

* * *

Yurak stood at the helm of his ship, arms crossed, face scowling. _It's a good thing the witch gave me her latest robeast. Together, we can defeat Arus and Voltron. For the good of the empire and beyond._

With the crumbling castle coming into view, he suddenly slammed his fists onto the console. "Burn it down!" he demanded in a roar. "Fire all cannons! I want this planet to be nothing more than a pile of rubble and ashes!"

"Yes, Sir!" his crew replied. _"Vrepit Sa!"_

 _"Vrepit Sa."_ Yurak turned his face back to the screen. The castle stood defiantly, despite its decrepit state. Soon, though, it would be nothing but a pile of crumbled debris on the ground. No matter what else happened in their battle, he would make sure that the only remaining symbol of Arusian royalty had fallen.

* * *

When his Lion broke through the surface of the blue lake, Sven's composed demeanor hid his racing pulse and pounding heart. The cool platinum of Lenora's ring had warmed to his body temperature and was nearly blazing against his skin, though he was so certain that, with his Norwegian heritage, only ice ran through his veins.

 _Min elskede_ _. I will make it home to her._

It was a promise he'd made to her... _and_ to himself. Not even death would come between them. He and the rest of the team would emerge victorious from this battle. Then they would settle whatever it was that the Garrison wanted from them, and he would return to Earth and his fiancée. No matter what his friends thought, no matter if they wanted to stay on Arus and finish the job, _he_ was only there for the minimum. His heart was somewhere else.

Once he made it through this battle, he was as good as on a shuttle back home.

* * *

"Avok! Avok, please. Help me! Don't let Papa do this to me!"

In the privacy of her older brother's private quarters, Romelle sniffled behind the lacy black mourning veil. As if it wasn't bad enough that she'd lost her mother, what her father wanted to do was unspeakable. Unimaginable. "Please, Avok! I'm begging you— _please_ talk Papa out of this decision. I can't bear to go through with it!"

Her older brother looked thoughtful for a moment, as though actually contemplating the idea of coming to her aid. Then, his eyes and features hardening, he snapped, _"No."_ His tone of voice was so frightening that the princess took a step back. "You need to let go of your silly little girl notions, Amue. We need you to step up to the plate to do your royal duty."

Her breath caught in her throat, and she ripped the veil off her face to glare at him. Avok was her older brother. He was supposed to be her savior. Her protector. And now, there he was, ready to throw her to the wolves for his own personal gain. "Please tell me you don't mean that," she hissed.

His countenance hardening, the crown prince of Pollux crossed the room in few strides until he stood directly in front of his sister. Without warning, he violently gripped both of her upper arms, his fingers settling into soft, fair flesh. She was sure there would be bruises in his wake. "Are you such a stupid girl that you cannot follow orders, Amue? You need to do this for us. For our _planet_." Anger flashed in his eyes as he ripped the veil from her face. "All youneed to do is bed him," he hissed. " _I_ need to become a robeast. _You_ got the easy end of it all."

The idea of laying with Lotor, of allowing him to have his way with her in his bedchambers, was enough to make her vomit again. "No! I don't care what Papa says. I don't care enough for any of you, or even this planet, to bed him! I want Tristan!"

Avok assessed her carefully. Then, almost casually, he released his grip on her arms and back-handed her, hard enough to send her spinning to the floor. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear." His voice was dangerously low. "You'll bed him for the good of all of us. _You_ , my dear sister, are a whore. You gave your body to Tristan. You can part your thighs for Lotor, too."

Her vision reeling from the blow, Romelle held her throbbing head in her hands and began to cry. She could think of nothing worse, except maybe to marry Zarkon Daibazaal himself. "Please," she wept, her begging mixed with her tears, "don't make me do this. Be my big brother and protect me!"

Disgusted, Avok exited the room, leaving his sister behind, sobbing and battered on the floor. "If you were smart," he growled in warning over his shoulder, "you would learn to keep your mouth shut and never bring this topic up again."

Which did nothing but make her sob harder.

* * *

Yurak's ship led the charge against Arus. With a battle cry of _"Vrepit Sa!"_ and nearly half of Zarkon's fleet— _and_ Haggar's special new robeast—in attendance, he was ready to take down Voltron.

There was no mighty defender in sight, so he decided to push the issue. "Fire all weapons!" he ordered, slamming both fists against his console. "Today is the day we destroy Arus! Turn this planet to dust! You hear me? _Dust!"_

His crew wasted no time in launching missiles and firing blasters at the earth. With no target, the very foundation of the planet was fired upon in the hopes of causing Arus to implode. _If I don't bring back those five,_ he figured, _I can at least break the planet apart._

Then, just as he expected, the mighty defender appeared in front of them.

"Voltron." Yurak turned to his first mate, who had blanched as much as a Drule soldier was able. "We are ready to take him down. All forces, attack!"

At his command, the flanks of his ship opened, and dozens of fighter ships flew out, swarming the mighty robot and firing. Yurak watched as Voltron easily swept them aside, almost as easily as one might swat a fly, before marching towards them.

 _Not as easy as I hoped it would be. Time to unleash the coffin._

The witch's robeast was contained within a coffin, fashioned from Korrinoth's raw materials and enhanced by Haggar's magic. She had promised him that it was her greatest creation to date; that Voltron didn't stand a chance against it. Yurak watched as it shot out from his ship's flank, landing on the ground untouched, almost as an afterthought.

 _Don't disappoint me, Old Witch._

Voltron was too busy shooting down his fighter jets to even notice as the lid slid off the coffin. A creature stepped out and, enhanced by Haggar's magic, grew to many times its size until it towered over the mighty robot. Baring its fangs, it hissed and swatted, throwing its fists into the air and pounding at the sky as though challenging it.

Challenging _Voltron._

 _Ah,_ Yurak thought proudly. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood at the helm of his ship smugly, as though he knew that Haggar's robeast would overcome Voltron. _Let's see those five space Explorers and their mighty robot take_ _this_ _robeast down._

Had he been a betting man, he would have put his money on Doom, not Arus.

* * *

None of them missed the monstrosity charging full speed towards them.

"Guys, we've got incoming!" Keith shouted over the comm as the robeast plowed through the barrage fighter jets to get to them. "If that thing's willing to destroy all the ships on _its_ side to get to us, imagine what it'll do when it gets us."

" _If_ it gets us," Lance corrected, his voice never losing bravado.

"Uh, that thing looks like it's gonna get to us sooner or later," Hunk interjected.

"That's obvious." Keith had no time to be snarky. He had to formulate a game plan, pronto. Otherwise, they were all dead. "Defensive maneuvers, now! Pidge, put us in contact with Castle Control, stat!"

"You got it, Chief!" Green's pilot answered.

"Lance, Sven, Hunk—you're on weapons!"

The three pilots gave some sort of assent. Lance's response might have contained some vulgar curse words in it, but Keith didn't have the time or patience to lecture him. Not when the robeast was closing the distance between them.

"Just...just a minute…" Pidge stammered as he attempted to pull up Castle Control on the monitor. His actions were thwarted as the robeast backhanded Voltron's torso, slamming against Green Lion. The systems analyst rammed backwards against his seat, knocking his head and falling momentarily unconscious.

 _"Helvete,"_ Sven cursed through gritted teeth. He'd have to take over for their tech junkie himself, thanking his stars overhead that he knew something about analysis from his _elskede_. "Keith! I'm on it!"

Instead of answering, the team captain decided to check in on his unconscious teammate. "Pidge! Are you okay? Answer me!"

"Dude, got no time for that now!" Hunk screeched. "Big an' Ugly is within striking distance!"

Keith choked on the breath in his throat as the robeast slashed its claws at Voltron, mere feet away from his face. From _his_ lion. _Okay, don't panic...but we need back-up NOW._ "Hunk, Sven, back up! Put as much distance between us and that thing as you can!"

Blue and Yellow jumped back, with Sven struggling to both control his lion and take over for Pidge. "I've got the comm open!" the Norwegian shouted, connecting his lion to Castle Control. "Lance, see what you can do to keep Ugly at bay for a moment."

"On it, man." Red Lion opened its jaws and spewed out fire.

 _Right._ Keith was too awed by Voltron's many powers to even care that their navigator had taken over as team leader.

* * *

Allura watched the screen, her heart in her throat, as the robeast began to attack Voltron. Breathless, her hand found it way to her advisor's, and she squeezed. No words were needed. If the Defender and those five strange space explorers went down now, they were done for. Arus would fall, and there would be nothing she could do to stop it.

An odd little beeping came from the main control panel. Coran tore himself away from Allura and pressed the button to open the communication channel.

Sven's image flickered onto the screen. _"We need help, Princess!"_

"What do you want me to do?" she shrieked, nervously tearing her hands through her blond mane.

"Something. _Anything!_ Pray." Then, before he could get any more words out, the screen jumbled to static as the robeast smashed into Voltron.

Allura gasped. For a moment, her world spun out of control, the end looming in sight. Then she gathered her strength, remembering Allistaire, and pointed her chin in the air. Making the sign of the cross, she glanced over at her advisor. "Coran. We have to go to the catacombs and pray."

His eyes betrayed his feelings. _She's lost her mind._ Instead, he tactfully—carefully—asked, "Is that wise, Princess?"

"We have no other choice," she answered firmly. "I'm going to fight."

* * *

Petting her blue cat contentedly, Haggar sat alongside Zarkon and watched through Yurak's ship's camera as his troops and her robeast battled the mighty robot. _Sarga ought to be pleased,_ she thought smugly, stroking her furry pet's back. _Today we shall finally destroy Voltron. The way_ _she_ _wanted to._

"Haggar!" Zarkon's voice echoed across the throne room. "Are you watching this?"

"I can't tear my eyes away from the screen, my lord."

"Well, it sure looks good for us, doesn't it?" The reptilian king smugly leaned back against his throne. "Between Yurak's troops and your robeast, those five blasted space explorers don't stand a chance in all of Ba'al's hells of succeeding. Today is the day that Voltron finally dies!"

"It certainly seems so." Though the old witch often hedged her bets, she was certain that her robeast would finally be the weapon that destroyed Voltron. "It would please my goddess if my magic took down the mighty robot."

"It will, I'm sure." Zarkon was pleased. Why wouldn't he be? Haggar's robeast and Yurak's troops were about to destroy Voltron and Arus. He had promised that Lotor would marry Cova's daughter, but he hadn't ruled out a marriage to Cardinal Sen's daughter, either. His future seemed so certain. "Today marks an important chapter in Korrinoth's history. Let us not forget it, Old Witch!"

Haggar bit her tongue to keep from a scathing reply. Sarga knew all. Her goddess was the way to a new future. Voltron, Arus, Yurak, Zarkon, Cova, Sen... _none_ of them were involved. Despite what her king thought, he was terribly wrong.

Terrible for _him_ , anyway.

* * *

"We got any better weapons on this thing?" Lance screeched as his lion shot off another round of flames. "I'm mean, not that this Lion Torch thing isn't cool and all, but we need something a little stronger if we're gonna touch Big an' Ugly."

"Agreed." From Blue Lion, Sven released a barrage of icy-hard pellets, as tough and deadly as any bullet. "But you know this fight is on us. The Princess doesn't have any weapons in her castle to help."

"No. Let's face it, the castle is all but gone." Keith pulled on the controls, dodging a swipe from the robeast's claw. "Jump back, now!"

In Green Lion, Voltron's dead left arm, Pidge woke up from his unconscious state and rubbed his eyes. "Where are we? What happened? Did we get through to the castle or not?"

"Sven did," Hunk informed him as Yellow Lion kicked the robeast in the shin. It sent the beast howling, hopping on one leg, leaving Voltron with enough time to retreat and put distance between them. "Not that it did much good."

"Try another weapon!" Keith barked out, breaking up the interaction. "Throw everything we've got at this thing! Keep going until it breaks, or until _we_ do!"

"I _would_ ," Lance growled, "but like I said, I need a better weapon!"

"I _know_ , Lance! I heard you the first time!"

"Well geez, Crankypants, I—"

Red's pilot was cut off mid-sentence as the robeast grabbed them and lifted them into the air. Growling, it spat in Voltron's face and slammed it against the ground so quickly the team didn't have time to react.

* * *

Down in the catacombs, Allura and Coran dropped to their knees in front of the two caskets.

"Mother, Father, the Drules are destroying our planet," the princess informed them, her voice matter-of-fact, devoid of any fear or begging. "We need a miracle to fight back."

Her advisor, however, was not so proud. "Please, your Majesties," Coran pleaded, "lend us your aid!"

The spirits began to stir, faster now that they had been conjured up once before. King Alfor and Queen Aurora appeared before them, smiling benevolently. "My daughter," the king began, his aquamarine eyes glowing ethereally, "I have already given you the keys to Voltron. Surely the mighty defender is enough to stop the Drules."

"He is not," Allura disagreed. "He _is_ a mighty champion, but the team is new and inexperienced. Even Voltron is not enough to win the battle right now."

Alfor's spirit glanced over at that of his wife's. Even in death, the golden-haired Aurora was still glorious. "My beautiful daughter," the queen spoke gently, "Voltron's keys were buried with your father, but the keys to the castle were buried with _me_."

The princess gazed up at her mother's ghost. "The keys to the castle?"

"Yes," she repeated, kindly but firmly. "Touch the diamond in my crown, my darling, and you will be victorious."

As her parents' spirits faded away, Allura glanced over at Coran. For the first time, her armor cracked. "Her _crown_?" she asked nervously. "Didn't Zarkon loot the royal treasury? Her crown doesn't exist anymore!"

Coran took her arm. "I believe she meant the crown on her casket."

"Oh." Indeed, both Aurora and her husband had beautiful crowns etched onto the head of their tombs—his, gilded with yellow gold paint; hers, silvered with a single diamond at the tip. "I have no idea how _that_ would be the keys to the castle, but…" Without another word, Allura moved to the head of her mother's casket and touched the little diamond. "Here goes nothing."

For a moment, there was nothing. And then the world... _spun._

* * *

"The castle's communications have entirely shut down."

Pidge's admission caused Keith to grimace. Their battle against the robeast had only intensified. The enemy showed no signs of fatigue or slowing down, while they were at the end of their rope. They'd tried almost every weapon in their arsenal, but nothing could stop this creature. Slow it down, maybe, but it always regrouped and hit back at them, stronger than ever.

They'd had no time. There was no training, no getting to know their lions, no team practice as Voltron. They weren't ready. And now, with no communications with the castle, they had no back-up.

Saviors of Arus, indeed.

"It's okay, Pidge. Keep hitting this thing with every weapon we've got."

"Keith," Sven interjected, "we've _already_ used every weapon we've got, and still nothing breaks him! He doesn't stay down!"

"It's insanity, I know, but keep doing it."

"You know," Lance suggested, "we could just throw ourselves at him. As in, using Voltron himself as a weapon. 'Course, that's just a suicide tactic, but still...it could work."

Keith shook his head. "No way. We're not killing ourselves, McClain." _We're already killing ourselves._ "We did _not_ come all this way to unearth this machine, only to destroy it and ourselves in the process." He smiled wryly. "Besides, we have a wedding to get home to. Len's not gonna be too happy with any of us, Sven included, if we kill off her fiancé."

"Yeah, I suppose." Lance blasted the robeast with another round of flames from his Lion Torch. Pidge joined in the festivities, with both Voltron's hands shooting fire against the enemy. The robeast slowed some, but seemed mostly unfazed.

"Whoa…" Hunk's incredulous voice popped over the general comm. "What the heck is _that_?"

In the distance, where the decrepit Castle of Lions once stood, something gleaming and shiny had taken its place: a new castle.

* * *

Yurak's mouth dropped open as the image of the new Castle of Lions came onto the screen. "What is _this_?!" he shrieked, banging his fists on the console. "Fire all weapons! Turn that new castle into rubble!"

"Yes Sir!" Immediately, his bridge staff took their focus off destroying the planet and aiding Haggar's robeast and redirected their cannons on this new castle.

But before they could fire, something fired at _them_.

* * *

 _Keys to the castle, indeed._

Allura stood in the sudden, brilliant sunshine, making a mental note to ask her parents how exactly this new castle came into being, anyways. With her new gadget strapped to her wrist— _I'm calling it a VoltCom, in honor of Voltron_ —she fired a built-in laser on the weapons deck directly at the Drule command ship.

 _That's for my mother and brother, you sick bastards,_ she thought with grim satisfaction as the hull of the ship exploded with flames. She then turned her focus on the robeast and blasted its hands and feet. _And that's for my father._

The VoltCom on her wrist beeped. Unbeknownst to the team, she could hear them asking, "What's going on?" "What's happening?" "What's firing?" "Where in blazes did that new castle come from?"

The last comment was definitely out of Keith's mouth, so she answered him. "It's me, Allura! There's no time to explain. While that robeast is stunned, use Voltron's Blazing Sword to finish him off!"

"Blazing _what_?"

"Just do it!" she hissed impatiently before returning to her laser blaster. She'd let them deal with the robeast. Turning her sights back onto the command ship, she fired again, getting more pleasure out of its smoking hull than she had any right to admit to.

"Blazing Sword, eh?" Lance quipped, cracking his knuckles. "I like the sound of that!"

"I do too," Keith added. "Form Blazing Sword!"

The mighty robot knew what to do. Green and Red heads clinked together, the weapon in question forming cleanly between their mouths. Lance controlled his lion, drew it back in a perfect swing, steadying himself for the killing blow.

It took no more than a second. Blazing Sword plunged deep into the robeast's chest, coming through the other side. Green and Red pulled back, only to drive it in once more, this time piercing its black heart.

* * *

As the monstrosity blew up, Yurak paled. His ship was in chaos: alarms blaring, fires burning, consoles sparking. "Retreat!" he commanded, grabbing an extinguisher to douse the flames. "All forces, pull back!"

His command ship wasn't totally destroyed. The hull wasn't breached too badly; the fires could be put out. They would make it back to Doom, though it would be quite some time before repairs would be completed and the ship was back in commission.

As they set course for Doom, Yurak wasn't nearly as irritated with the space explorers as he was with Haggar. _That old witch lied to me,_ he seethed. _She told me her robeast would finish the job. Ha. Such a_ _great_ _job it did._

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew how angry Zarkon would be at this defeat. How he would be punished because of it. Somehow, it didn't bother him nearly as much as it would have under other circumstances.

Today, he could pin his defeat on Haggar. And that blame shift would keep him alive until the next battle.

* * *

Coran stood in the brand-new Castle Control and watched as Yurak's fleet retreated. Tears of gratitude and relief welled in his eyes. _They did it. They brought Voltron back to life and defeated Zarkon. King Alfor, Queen Aurora, Prince Allistaire...those space explorers really_ _are_ _the saviors of Arus._

Wiping the tears away, he watched as the monitor switched to a view of the princess, twisting her long golden locks up into a messy topknot and locking the laser blaster back into position. _And the princess...she might truly be the_ _real_ _savior of Arus, after all._

* * *

 _PS: I'd like to wish everyone a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and of course, a Happy New Year! I wish everyone peace, love, happiness, gratitude, and wine. Don't forget the wine._


	14. Better

_Author's Note_ _: Happy New Year! I hoped that this year would start out being awesome but, you know, life intrudes. I will make as many updates as I can. Love you guys, you're the BEST!_

 _To WarzonePrez: I was hoping you'd like Queen Aurora in the last chapter. She was SO underutilized as a character. I blame GoLion. (PS I miss you! We need a chat night.)_

 _To Susan: I'm glad you like the story! Keep hanging in there for more._

 _To Sunshineleo: Queen Aurora was a hit! Yea, that makes me so happy. And I'm striving to make Allura a lot more powerful of a character than she was in DotU. Now, as for Sven and Romelle...you already know what I'm going to say. I don't have to say it. Or maybe I'll tell you in person over cocktails at La Cave. (As long as I don't have a jet-lag headache. And it's my treat next time!)_

 _To Emie Mac: My doll! I actually banged out a little over 22K words for NaNoWriMo. Now that story is in limbo. Oh well, I'll get around to it eventually (I hope to clean it up & submit it to Harlequin). Other than that, there's more David & Morgan in the next chapter. There's a reason that they're the longest-running couple in my Voltron Universe!_

 ** _Title Song: "Better" by Meghan Trainor ft. Yo Gotti_**

* * *

"I can't believe this. It's _incredible_!"

This time, Allura held herself in check and didn't go running straight into Keith's arms, regardless of how much she might have wanted to. As her space explorers returned to Castle Control, triumphant after using Voltron to defeat Doom's forces, she clasped her hands together and gazed at each one of them, her eyes resting on the handsome team captain perhaps a bit longer than the others. "It's truly miraculous," she reiterated, composing her demeanor into the ruler she might one day become. "You five have pulled off the unthinkable. You took on everything Zarkon threw at Arus, and you won."

"Well...we did it with _your_ help, Princess." Pidge blushed a little at the thought of Allura shooting at the Robeast and the Doom command ship with her new weapon. "We should be thanking _you_ as much as you're thanking us."

"Yeah, Princess. You saved the day," Lance added proudly.

The team and the two Arusians were so amazed—dumbfounded, even—by the fact that they'd won their first battle against Doom that no one noticed Sven standing away from them. Hesitantly. Uncomfortably. He tapped Keith on the shoulder, discreetly pulling him aside as Allura took turns hugging Lance, Pidge and Hunk.

"Keith…if you have a moment…" Sven's eyes transmitted urgency as he grabbed his captain's sleeve.

"Now?"

 _"Ja."_

Inhaling, Keith looked over his shoulder. "Give me a few minutes," he instructed. "I'll meet you in the next room over."

As the navigator departed Castle Control, the captain glanced back at Allura. Her sparkling green eyes, her long golden hair... _Gods, she really is beautiful._ She would keep him going, he decided. And right now, with the bomb that Sven was about to drop on him looming ahead, he needed everything to keep him going that he could get.

* * *

Fifteen mecha flew free from the Explorer on their first mission to the uninhabited planet. Jeff remained in close contact with Cliff and Crik, as well as his Air Team, but kept a private channel open between himself and Commander Hawkins.

"Sir...what do you want me to do?"

"You know the mission," Hawkins replied, deliberately keeping his tone in check. "The three subunits are to investigate the air, the land, and the water of this planet. Bring back samples for Professor Page. We need to know if this planet is compatible with Earth in terms of inhabitation."

"Of course, Sir. But…" Jeff swallowed, feeling stupid, and then guilty for not being a better team leader. "How do I do that?"

"Do _what_?"

"Get them to follow my orders?"

The commander leaned back in his chair, cradling the back of his head in his hands. " _You_ areVoltron's leader, Captain Aki. I suggest that you tell them, kindly but firmly, to do what you've asked them to do." He stared Jeff down over the visual comm. "It's not that difficult. I promise."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Don't thank me. Do your job." Hawkins shut off the comm and closed his eyes, wondering how in all the hells he'd managed to drum up so much patience for the inexperienced team captain. It almost made him think that he would be a great parent if given the opportunity.

But for that to happen, he'd have to meet a woman he wanted to settle down with. And _that_ was most certainly never going to happen.

* * *

With her her chestnut hair pulled into a low ponytail, Lenora unfurled her mat onto the studio floor. Since graduation, she'd taken up yoga not only as a workout, but also as a stress reliever. It helped to quiet her mind when it was running wild. It was also the closest she could get to forgetting that Sven was on Arus.

The nearby studio taught four classes after her workday; usually, she hustled to make it to the 17:30 offering before meeting her friends for dinner. Tonight, though, the girls had plans. Morgan was headed to David's apartment to study— _Well, I'm glad she got it through her thick skull that Rackens is a good guy_ —and Kelly was going to some new workout class she'd signed up for. Only Aidan was available, and he'd sent her a message to contact him when she was finished. He would pick her up, then they would go out to eat.

Because she was looking forward to seeing his new hovercar, she agreed...despite the gnawing feeling in her stomach telling her that it was a bad idea to be alone with him.

* * *

Once they had a moment alone, Keith allowed his second-in-command to do all the talking. After all, he already knew what was coming. But he wanted to hear it out of Sven's mouth.

"Keith," the Norwegian began, "that was... _exhilarating._ Unlike anything I've ever experienced in my entire life."

"Agreed." The team captain clasped his hands behind his neck. He didn't want to stall, but he wanted to keep this high going for just a moment longer. "We were good out there today. _All_ of us."

"We were." Sven exhaled, the breath long and forced. "Which is what makes this part so difficult."

"Say it, Sargeant Holgersson. I want you to tell me to my face."

The Norwegian closed his eyes and dropped his head back. "I'm giving you my resignation, Captain Kogane. You already know the reason why."

Keith narrowed his turquoise eyes. "As I said before... _tell me to my face."_

 _"Faen!"_ The Norwegian cursed in his native language, his fists balling at his sides. "You want me to tell you the reason, _min venn_? _Veldig bra._ I want to go home to my fiancée, Keith. I don't want to be on this god-forsaken planet, risking my life, when I could be with her."

"Sven...we need you."

"Like _helvete_ you do! Anyone can pilot Blue Lion. _Anyone!_ Space Marshall Graham can come up with a replacement for me at the snap of his fingers. I'm one of tens of thousands who can fight for Arus."

"We're a team, Sven!" Keith threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. "Arus needs you, but _we_ need you, too! Blue Lion won't respond to just anyone. And we need Blue to form Voltron, and since we need Voltron to win this war—"

"This is not _my_ war!" Sven interrupted angrily. "I was taken away from Lenora and brought here to do a job, and I did it! Now I want to go home and marry her. I want a life and a family with her! We've both waited long enough."

His navigator's admission shouldn't have shocked him as much as it did. Anyone who knew Sven and Lenora knew how much they loved each other, how they had planned their future together. "You're still young. Both of you. There are plenty of years ahead for you two." He placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Please, Sven. We need you."

"She needs me too." For a moment, his slate-blue eyes glittered in such a way that Keith almost thought he would cry. "And _I_ need _her_."

"But—"

"The Garrison can send you someone to take my place. Anyone. A better navigator than me." Sven grinned maliciously at the team captain. "Morgan Feld."

At those words, Keith nearly lunged at the Norwegian. _"Shut the hell up!"_ he screeched, slamming his helmet onto the floor. "Graham picked _us_ specifically for this mission!"

Sven glared back at him, the glint in his slate-blue eyes deadly. "And what would Graham know?"

"Oh, I don't know...he's _only_ the Space Marshall of the Galaxy Alliance!"

They remained in a quiet face-off for a moment, seething. Finally, the Norwegian broke the silence. "Do you remember that afternoon, Keith? The one when Graham told us that we were going to Arus the day after graduation?"*

"Of _course_ I remember." Keith kept his guard up; he had no idea where this conversation was going. "How could I forget?"

"Then you might remember that I went back to Graham's office afterward. I begged him to change his mind. To send Morgan instead of me. I _begged_ him." He looked so sad. And hurt. "Instead, he told me no, that he couldn't 'make any substitutions without altering the team's framework'. But I know. I know that he wanted to separate Lenora and me. I _know_ it." He narrowed his eyes. "Ironically, Dalloway knew it, too."

"Oh, Sven." Keith's stance softened. He sunk to his knees, rocking back and forth on his heels, shifting between being angry at his friend and feeling sorry for him. "Graham didn't set out to separate you and Len."

 _"Tull!"_ he swore again. "Of course he did! She was so smart, Keith. She beat me out in class rank. _Helvete_ , she almost beat _you_ out in class rank! So of course he wouldn't send her here. He wanted her for his own roster!"

"You don't know that for sure."

"I can feel it, Keith. I know these things. She and I have a bond that spans however many light-years Arus is from Earth. We were expendable, the lot of us. _She_ was not." Sven was so enraged, his face was nearly purple.

Keith broached the topic carefully; after all, as Lance had said earlier, an angry Norwegian was not someone to mess with. "It's okay, my friend." He threw up his hands in resignation. "You win. I'll have Coran contact the Garrison. We'll see if they can send someone else in your place. _But,"_ he warned, "you're not allowed to leave Arus until your replacement is here, and you've given him...or _her_...a full tour of Blue, and our new pilot feels comfortable in the Lion." He narrowed his turquoise eyes. "That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

Sven nodded. "Fair enough. I accept."

They shook on it, though the team captain had a knot in the pit of his stomach at the arrangement.

* * *

The rushing air was the perfect accompaniment to her mood.

Though she wore a helmet, Morgan left the face shield down enough to cover her eyes only, exposing her nose, cheeks, and chin to the elements. She loved the wind in her face and the rush from the open road as she sped on her hoverbike to David's apartment.

 _No wonder Keith loved these things,_ she lamented as she approached his building.

Immediately, she scrubbed the thought from her mind. She hadn't bought her hoverbike because of Keith. She had _not_. She bought it because it was convenient, inexpensive, and easy to park. The fact that it was her ex-boyfriend's preferred method of transportation didn't figure into the equation. At least, that was what she told herself. Repeatedly.

Traffic was light, so she had no problem zipping along narrow side streets. The speed, like the wind, was freeing. It forced her to reexamine her life and figure out what she wanted from it and who she wanted to be. What she really needed was to know who she was now that she wasn't breaking up and getting back together with Keith Kogane.

The only way to do that was to carve out a new life. She had a feeling that making new friends, like David, would help with exactly that.

* * *

Her pulse racing, Kelly approached the pole.

She'd told them that she couldn't make dinner tonight, that she had an exercise class to go to. Which wasn't a lie, exactly; pole dancing _could_ be considered an athletic sport. But she hadn't gone for the workout. She'd gone because it made her feel sexy and desired, two things she hadn't felt since Modoch left on the Explorer.

It was petty, but it was the truth. She wanted...no, _needed_...to feel desired. And since she was stuck in limbo, she had no choice but to fill that void with whatever would make her feel sexy without bringing another man into the equation.

She hoped to heaven that she wouldn't bring another man into the equation.

"Miss Asimov, you may begin when you're ready," the instructor— _How the heck did she remember my name?_ —encouraged her as she approached the pole. "Freestyle to your heart's content."

After learning, though definitely not mastering, some of the moves in her first class, Kelly began when the music started. She swung her body around the pole, moving in rhythm to the beat of the drums blasting from the loudspeakers behind her, and felt warmth rush through her. Not only from the workout, though her heart was beating faster than she'd expected. Because she felt sexy, and desirable, and wanted.

As the music stopped and her feet landed back on the floor, she knew that she would return for another class. And another. Just as Len had found yoga, she had found pole dancing, and knew that it would be as integral to her life as her daily run.

And, just like Len, she had nobody to greet her when she returned home...because both of their loved ones were gone.

* * *

Cliff had taken to the role of captain better than Jeff had. Though he wasn't Voltron Force leader the way his friend was, he didn't stress too much about being in charge of his Land Team. Maybe he'd always been so laid-back. Or maybe it was from hanging around Crik. The Miran captain of the Sea Team was a calming influence on them all.

Regardless, it certainly had _nothing_ to do with having Aidan Dalloway as a roommate for so many years.

"Steady now, team. This terrain _appears_ solid, but—"

"It's not," Cinda finished. "I took the sample already. Though I'm no Professor Page, I wouldn't have to be a genius to tell you it's sandy."

"No wonder we're gettin' our wheels stuck in the muck," Marvin groaned.

"Right. Everyone, kill your engines. I'll contact Aki and see if the Air Team can pull us out before be get ourselves into a pickle." Cliff switched off the Land Team comm to open a private channel to Jeff. Once he felt the hum of the Turbo Terrain cruiser's multiple engines still, he contacted his friend. "Hey, mate?"

Jeff answered immediately, but in a clipped, distracted tone. "What is it, Cliff?"

"The soil on this planet is all sand. The Turbo Terrain Fighter is stuck. I've had everyone turn off their engines, but we need you to come pull us out."

"Uh, Cliff?" Jeff's voice was on edge. "We've got bigger problems right now."

* * *

Though he knew he would be leaving, Sven wanted to spend as much time as possible in Blue Lion's cockpit. He wasn't sure whether or not the lion knew that this was only a temporary arrangement, but the navigator felt that the mecha understood him.

Blue Lion read him in a way only Lenora ever could.

 _Which,_ he reminded himself purposefully, _is the reason I'm leaving in the first place. I have to get home to_ _min elskede_ _. I_ _have_ _to._

"Hey Viking, you need a sparring partner?"

How had Lance snuck up on him? Either he wasn't paying attention, or Blue Lion's scanners hadn't picked up on Red. He doubted it was the latter. "What do you want, McClain?"

"Eh, I just wanted to take Red out for a spin, that's all. And then, lo and behold, I see you and Blue doing the same thing." Sven heard the smirk in his friend's voice. "Tell me something, Viking: for someone who's already got one foot on a shuttle back home, why do you spend so much time in your lion? I'd have thunk you'd only get in it for battle purposes."

"You'd think, eh?" Sven almost grinned. "I'm trying to hold up my end of the bargain. I've got to learn everything I can about Blue. That way, I can tell my replacement everything."

"Oh, so you did it, huh?" Lance was more surprised than he thought he'd be. Though he knew that Sven would insist on going home, he hadn't counted on it being this soon. "You told Keith that you wanted to go back to Earth?"

 _"Ja."_

"I can't believe one woman holds so much power over you." Red Lion knocked into Blue, which was the closest Lance could come at the moment to smacking his old roommate in the head. "Don't get me wrong, I adore Len. She's my Sis. But I can't believe that you would leave your post so fast on account of her."

"Lance—"

"I mean it! Back at the Academy, you didn't stop until you reached your goal. Whether it was acing your navigation exams, being prepared for class, working out and eating clean, or fighting off Dalloway for your girl, you never once backed off or shied away from a challenge. Heck, I wanted to be half as disciplined as you! So why in the universe would you want to quit _now_?"

Sven was silent for a moment, contemplative, as he flew the Blue Lion. Finally, he answered. "My one true objective in life is to have a family, Lance. Maybe you don't understand that. But that's all I ever wanted."

"Well," Lance snorted, "I knew you were the monogamous type, but I never thought I'd hear you say _that_."

"You know Lenora. And you know how I feel about her." Sven closed his eyes, landing his lion on the ground by Lake Arus. "Tell me, Lance, do you remember how I always spoke about _min bestemor_? How everything was about my grandmother, and never my parents?"

"Duh."

"You know that my parents died, and that I was raised by my grandmother. But did you know that my parents were navigators, too? And that it was my father's calculation error that caused their deaths?"

Lance landed Red Lion beside him. "No. You never told me that." He pounded his console. "How could you _not_ have told me that, you jerk?"

"So perhaps then you understand. Why I was so driven. Why I wanted to be the best navigator I could be. So that I wouldn't make the same mistake my father did." Sven paused for effect. "But that would _also_ explain why I want my own family. Because I never had one."

"Hmm. No wonder you love my Sis so much. Not for nothing, but I was always trying to figure out how you stayed with one woman for five years when you could've used that goofy accent of yours to pick up any chick you wanted."

"Oh? Were you jealous?" Sven's tone of voice seemed to mock him. "How would _Ginger_ feel about that?"

Lance gritted his teeth; he'd kept his relationship with the bubbly blond a secret for five years. "Why would _she_ care? Just because we closed the deal on Senior Night*, it doesn't mean anything. Not to me."

 _"Tull,"_ he swore mildly. "You can't fool me, Lance. You never could. You love her. You always did."

"You should shut up."

"Hmph," he snorted. "Deny it all you want, but know that I know."

"I hate you."

"But you will be the one who will miss me most of all, _min beste venn_."

It was true. Lance's and Sven's lives had been intertwined from the very beginning, even before Lenora entered the picture. The Red Lion pilot would miss his best friend terribly once he returned to Earth. And whoever the Garrison sent to replace him would never measure up, not in totality. _And if they send Morgan as his replacement, then I'll spend the rest of this war trying to keep her from fighting with Keith. Yeah, good luck with_ _that_ _._ "You know I'll miss you, you jerk. But I expect a wedding invite, you hear?"

"You're my best friend and you'll be my best man."

"Good." Lance fired flames from his lion's mouth, decimating a nonexistent target. "Because I love you, man. And I'm gonna miss you more than I'm willing to admit to."

"I love you too, Lance." Sven's lips tightened into a line, aching at the thought of having to choose between his closest friends and the woman who meant more to him than anything else. "I love you, too."

* * *

This was _not_ how he wanted his first mission to go.

They had been running along smoothly, as planned, following Zeppo's orders: search for new planets to add to the Drule Empire. Of course, Hazar read between the lines and knew that when the emperor said _Drule Empire_ , he really meant _Planet Drule_ , but he put that thought out of his mind. He was there to do his job, collect his pay, and support his family.

And now... _this_.

"Commander," his lookout tech informed him, "we're not alone."

"No?" Hazar leaned forward, craning his neck to get a better look at the screen. "Can you zoom the image in? I want to get a good look at what we're dealing with."

"Of course." The tech enlarged the image, showing a somewhat large flying vehicle composed of five parts. "We're not entirely certain of its origin, but initial scans show that it's definitely not Drule."

"I'm not surprised." Hazar cleared his throat. They were under strict orders to extract a planet; in fact, as many planets as possible. His entire pension and perhaps his livelihood depended on this first mission right here. "Hail the ship. We need to find out who they are and why they're here."

"That's not the brightest idea," another tech spoke up. "Sir, I've found another ship in the background. Larger. Perhaps its home base."

"Bring that up, too." The screen split, and Hazar narrowed his cat-like eyes at the hovering stellar ship in the distant atmosphere. It was even larger than his own command ship. "Well, what are we supposed to do about _that_?"

"Maybe we should hail that one?" yet another tech suggested. "As you said, Commander, we still need to establish who these people are and what their motive for being here is."

"Fair enough." Hazar scowled. Oh, how he'd wanted his first mission to be a success. And more than that, to be _easy_. How lovely it would have been to report back to Zeppo that he'd captured a planet in Drule's name with minimum fuss, fanfare, and bloodshed. Now it was certain to get ugly. "Are any of you able to hail that larger ship?"

"I will," the last tech volunteered. "That should be easy."

Hazar stood at the helm of his command ship, pensive with arms crossed, as they hailed the other stellar ship. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen _now_.

* * *

After class, Lenora pulled her slightly-damp chestnut locks into a sloppy topknot and rolled up her yoga mat, securing it in its bag. Slinging it over her shoulder, she headed out to the street, where she knew Aidan would be waiting for her.

He was leaning against his hovercar, arms crossed, a smirk on his face as she came into view. "Wow, Babe, you look _hot_ ," he whistled, opening the door for her. "There's nothing sexier than a woman straight outta workout class, all sweaty and flushed and glowy."

She felt uncomfortable at his borderline-inappropriate comments. "And when was the last time _you_ worked out?"

"Don't you worry about me." He winked at her as he placed himself in the driver's seat. "I hit the gym all the time."

From his lean torso to his bulky biceps, it was evident that he wasn't lying. Lenora swallowed as she took in his physique from bottom to top, starting with his muscular thighs and ending with his wavy blond ponytail and matching facial scruff. "Good to know that I'm not the only one who finds exercise to be a stress reliever."

"It sure is." He winked again, his brilliant blue eyes twinkling in the twilight. "I've got enough stress on my plate as it is."

"I bet you do."

As he pulled into traffic, he glanced at her sideways. "Though not as much as _you_ have."

It was kind of him to acknowledge as much, though she didn't put much stock in his sincerity. "So where do you wanna get dinner?" she asked, changing the subject. "I hope not somewhere _too_ nice. I'm still in my sweaty yoga pants."

"Don't worry, Babe." This time, he didn't lift his eyes from the traffic. "I know just the place."

That sentiment did nothing to help unnerve her.

* * *

Sparks had split the viewscreen into three separate components so that Commander Hawkins could keep his eyes on the Land, Sea, and Air Teams all at once.

He saw Crik's Sea Team swimming beneath the surface. _Nothing going on there,_ he thought with relief as the Aqua Fighter swam through the depths and collected specimens for Professor Page. _At least everything's going according to plan there._

He was also able to see Cliff's Turbo Terrain Fighter stuck in the soil. _Whatever they're stuck in, I hope Captain Jack has the good sense to contact Keats or Aki for retrieval._

Jeff's Strato Fighter, however, was suspended mid-air, as if unable to move.

 _What the devil is wrong with him?_ Before the commander could lament the fact that his unofficial protégé was stalled, Sparks piped up.

"Commander Hawkins, we're being hailed by an unknown vessel."

 _Fantastic._ "Bring it up."

With minimal fuss, the tech sargeant split the screen into four parts so that the commander could receive the transmission while keeping an eye on the three Vehicle Voltron segments. When the image of a young Drule filled their sight on the last portion, he narrowed his eyes. This was most certainly _not_ who he had hoped for. "I am Commander Hawkins of the Stellar Ship Explorer, on charter on behalf of the Galaxy Garrison of Planet Earth. And who, may I ask, are you?"

The Drule on the screen did not flinch. "I am Commander Teles of Drule. I have been sent to scout new planets on behalf of my homeworld."

"Admirable, to be sure." Hawkins stalled for a moment. _Planet Drule...they just seceded from the Drule Empire. Do they want this planet? If they do, they're no better or worse than Earth is. But I need to persuade them otherwise, and let them know we're not a threat._ "Has this planet been spoken for, Commander?"

"It is now."

 _Those are fighting words._ Hawkins narrowed his eyes imperceptibly. "I believe otherwise, Commander Teles."

"What you believe shows your incompetence in these matters, Commander Hawkins."

 _Oh, he did_ _not_ _just go there._ Hawkins ground his teeth together angrily before responding. "If you should take this planet, Commander Teles, you must know that Planet Drule is acting against the good faith of Planet Earth, and will be dealt with accordingly."

"So be it." The Drule looked smug as he prepared to close the transmission. "Godspeed, Commander Hawkins. It was good to make your acquaintance."

As that quarter of the screen blackened, Hawkins pounded his fists on the console. "We need to prepare the Voltron Force. They need to ready themselves for battle."

Navigator Goldman twirled his chair towards him. "Now, Commander?"

"Now."

* * *

* See "Last Dance" for more details.


	15. Room To Breathe

_Author's Note_ _: Happy springtime! No, I'm not dead, but I_ _am_ _eight weeks out from surgery. I missed you guys!_

 _To Susan: There is more coming! It may be coming slow, but it's coming!_

 _To Emie Mac: Never fear, my doll. I'm not sure how often I'll be posting this year, but I_ _will_ _be posting, I'm not on hiatus yet. You know, it's hard for me to watch the VV dubs b/c they are SO bad, and the story is so disjointed. I feel like that's the reason VV was never as popular as LV. Let me tell you, if WEP had kept to the Dairugger storyline...minds would have been blown. And that's what I'm trying to atone for._

 ** _Title Song: "Room To Breathe" by You Me At Six_**

* * *

"Well, this has been a... _disappointment."_

It often worried Yurak when Zarkon didn't scream, but rather spoke to him calmly. When the king yelled, he was annoyed, yes, but he was also carrying on for show. The point was intimidation rather than true anger.

But when he spoke calmly, well, all bets were off.

"My Lord Zarkon, I apologize." Yurak bowed deeply, almost afraid to drop his head to the floor, lest the king cut it off. "I don't know what happened out there. All I know is that Voltron appeared, and a new castle came up from the ground with new weapons systems, and—"

"It is true, Sire." Haggar cut him off, bowed over in the same position by Yurak's side. After all, she shared some of the blame with him. "We were caught off-guard. How could a new Castle of Lions simply rise from the earth?"

"You should have been prepared for anything." Zarkon impatiently tapped his fingertips against his throne's armrests. "Or has your goddess Sarga forsaken you?"

The witch glared at him. "Sarga will never forsake one of her own, Your Majesty."

Yurak's glance went back and forth between Zarkon and Haggar. Though the king had the most power, the witch was an entity of her own right, and certainly not one to be intimidated by anyone, least of all him. The commander envied her, the way she was able to stand before the throne without fear. She was definitely stronger than he himself was.

Zarkon swallowed before replying. In fact, his reply was a hollow laugh. "So then, Old Witch, _what_ would your goddess Sarga do after your dismal failure?"

The commander studied Haggar's neutral face. She showed no fear, that was for certain. It was admirable, to be sure. "She would have me go to Arus, my Lord. With one of my own robeasts. I would take out one of Voltron's pilots."

Zarkon looked vaguely intrigued by her statement. "By yourself?"

"Yes, my Lord. With one of my robeasts, of course. One mighty enough to, as I mentioned, take down one of Voltron's pilots."

It was a genius plan. Yurak narrowed his eyes at the witch in a mix of jealousy and awe. Why hadn't he thought of something like that? "That's a brilliant plan," he finally admitted.

Zarkon seemed to agree with him. "You would murder one of the pilots outright?"

"I would." Haggar's stooped frame seemed to stand taller. "The Earthlings cannot form Voltron with only four pilots. Get rid of one pilot, get rid of the threat entirely." She shrugged. "It is an easy task. Earthlings are not so difficult to kill."

The king sat silent for a moment, contemplating. "Do you think you will be successful, old witch?"

"I am sure of it, my lord."

"Then do it."

Haggar bowed stiffly. "Thank you, my lord. My robeast and I will not disappoint you." She bowed deeply and excused herself to her sanctuary, leaving Yurak by himself to face Zarkon for the failure that had preceded them.

"And then there's you, Yurak." Zarkon turned his face to the commander. "I have yet to deal with _you_ for your failure against Planet Arus."

The commander merely swallowed in fear in reply.

* * *

Jamie and David often used their apartment's fire escape as their unofficial patio. While they couldn't exactly get a grill out there, the adjoining window was large enough to fit two folding chairs through it, and the small expanse of scaffolding would allow their miniature cooler to act as both a keg and a tray table.

"I can't wait to meet your navigation chick." Jamie tossed his head back to swallow yet another sip of beer. "This is the first girl you've had over since you and Stacey broke up."

"Seven hells, Gatehouse! She's not my navigation chick, she's my _classmate_. And we're studying." David opened the lid on the cooler and retrieved the last dark imported beer in their possession. He'd have to purchase more tomorrow.

"I love how you're popping back beers before she gets here. Nothing like a good buzz to get your study on." Jamie made some obscene gestures with his bottle.

"Hey, I'm simply trying to make good on our patio before the cold weather forces us to pack it in." David wouldn't admit it, but he was excited that Morgan was coming over to study. As much as he hated to give his roommate credit, Jamie was right; she _was_ the first girl he'd had over since Stacey dumped him. "Do me a favor and don't drink everything we've got in here, eh? She might want one."

The pale blond rolled his eyes. _"Sure."_

"Thank you."

"You must really like this chick if you're purposely putting a bottle aside for her."

"Seven hells, man. It's the polite thing to do."

"If you say so." Jamie stuck his tongue out at him. "Or are you just trying to get her drunk so you can hook up with her?"

" _Hardly_ , you bloody prat. I'm being polite. Forgive me if my manners are better than yours."

"Ooh, breaking out your fancy British vocab. I'm soooo scared."

"I always have my British vocabulary out. I _am_ British. Seven hells, man. Where have you been for the better half of the last decade?"

"Obviously not paying attention."

 _"Obviously."_

* * *

Jeff shut off the comm between himself and Commander Hawkins. Gripping the controls tightly, he struggled to inhale as full comprehension of the situation settled in.

He needed room to breathe.

"Crik." He opened a separate comm to his Miran fellow captain.

"Yes, Jeffrey?"

"I just got off the comm with Commander Hawkins. We have a situation."

Crik groaned internally. "We're not allowed to have another situation. The Land Team already has a situation."

"Keats! Get it together. There's an enemy out there. They made contact with the Explorer. We're about to go into battle, but we can't form Voltron without the Land Team! You're closer. The Air Team and I will try to hold off the jet fighters while you and the Sea Team pull Cliff and his crew out of the muck."

Crik nodded. "Got it, Captain."

"Thanks. The Air Team and I will try to hold them off until you arrive. Over and out." What he _didn't_ say was that they'd merely try to survive until then.

* * *

Now that Korrinoth had tasted its first defeat, and Arus was obviously on the up-and-up, Allura insisted that the Voltron Force go into what was left of the main village and distribute food. "Some of this," she reminded them, "has been around since before the war began. My poor people are starving. Granted, this isn't what I _want_ to give them. But now that we're re-establishing ourselves in the eyes of Galaxy Garrison _and_ the rest of the universe, things will only improve."

Earlier, Lance had turned his nose up at the variety of canned goods. Sure, it was better than not eating. And he _was_ hungry. He could only imagine how hungry those cave- and forest-dwelling citizens of Arus were, too. But now he was absolutely starving. Those tin cans might as well have been Thanksgiving dinner.

"I guess we've been reduced to this, eh?" Lance would normally spout off to Sven, but since the Viking had become a recluse in his Blue Lion since their victory against Doom, he complained to Pidge and Hunk instead. "The champions of Arus and the top-ranked of the Space Academy, and we celebrate with cans of cat food."

"Beats starving." Hunk rubbed his belly. "I'd rather eat canned foods than a penguin, I'll give you that much."

Pidge rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Tsuyoshi."

Lance wasn't about to be deterred. " _Seriously_ , man? I love the princess and all, but she couldn't have done better than this? I'd gladly take the Academy cafeteria food over this bunch of rations any day."

"Um...Lance?" Hunk squeaked out in warning.

"What?"

At that, Allura placed her hand on Lance's shoulder. To which Red's pilot immediately knew his foul-up. "Umm… _Hey_ , Princess?"

Half of her mouth turned up in a smile. "Hello yourself, Lance."

"I didn't mean that." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Open mouth, insert foot."

She laughed. "It seems you do that often enough."

Hunk nodded vigorously. "Now _that's_ the truth."

Allura didn't seem at all offended by the comedy of errors. "So tell me, how I look?" She twirled around in her newer, more casual princess outfit, raising her arms out to the side and above her head for full inspection. "Do I look like I'm ready to get down in the village and help my people? Or do you think they might want to see me in full princess garb instead?"

"I think," Pidge replied, "that they'll be happy to see you, no matter what."

"I'll second that." Hunk nodded enthusiastically.

Lance placed his hands on Allura's shoulders and squeezed. "Princess, your people will be so happy to see you out and about that they won't care _what_ you're wearing. You could go into town nekkid and they wouldn't notice." He shot her a big, dopey grin. "In fact, _I_ would have no problem if you wanted to go into town nekkid. I can help you undress now."

With a silly, loving grin, she slapped him across the face.

* * *

Morgan paused on her bike at the address David had given her. _Am I really doing this?_ she asked herself, removing her helmet with trembling hands. _Am I_ _really_ _having a study date with David Rackens? Of all people,_ _David Rackens_ _? He beat Lance out every freaking time in those shooting contests. This goes against everything I stand for._

After a moment of contemplation, she hopped off the hoverbike and hit the button to secure it. Instantly, the laser beams locked around it in a dome. _Actually, it goes against everything I_ _used_ _to stand for. But I'm a different person now. It's time I acted like it._

David had told her that he and his roommate would be out on their "patio," whatever that might have meant. Morgan scanned the side of the building for anything that remotely resembled a deck or its equivalent. All she saw was a fire escape.

Then she saw the set of hands waving at her.

 _Oh my God, David_ _and_ _his roommate. There's two of them that I need to deal with now._ Was she really ready for this? Was she doing the unthinkable, siding with someone who had fought against family from her floor...and been victorious?

Well, her Wifey adored David. And Morgan had been lonely since Keith left for Arus. Why _not_ have the attention of two guys? If nothing else, it would prime her for getting back on the market, trying to find another guy she was interested in, someone she might be able to share her body and heart with.

Oh yes, and it would help her prepare for exams. It would _definitely_ help her prepare for exams. He would help her study. David was British, after all. He was good for that.

* * *

"All soldiers, to the hangar! To your stations!"

Hazar hadn't wanted this battle, but he had to admit, he did bring it on himself. He could have been more cordial to that Commander Hawkins. He could have come off as less threatening. But Drule needed to find more planets. He didn't know all the reasons why, but Mongo was right: there were reasons more pressing than simply domination and expansion. Reasons which Emperor Zeppo was keeping from them.

Not that they mattered at the moment. The only thing that mattered was the need to prepare for war.

* * *

Keith had to hand it to her: the princess looked even better in civilian clothes.

Out on the streets, trying to hand out stores of food for her battered people, Allura did her very best to fit in, but failed miserably. Though she wore a circlet to crown her long blond mane instead of a tiara, no one was fooled by her accessory change. Nor did she blend in the way she had wanted to, dressed in beige trousers, a long pink tunic, and matching ballet flats. Though her clothing was all old and ill-fitting, she somehow radiated an aura of royalty and authority, and her citizens instantly knew who she was. There was something about the way she carried herself, held her chin up defiantly in the face of adversity. That _something,_ he and his teammates both admired and respected.

And loved.

Keith didn't want to admit it to himself, but it was true. He was not only falling hard for the princess, he had fallen for her already. It was something he had never felt before. Any emotion he had for Morgan, it merely imitated what he felt for Allura.

He quickly wiped his mind clean of the thought. _I'm a pilot. She's a princess. It'll never happen._

Standing next to him, Sven handed out tin cans to the children and mothers who came to him. A huge smile plastered on his face, he was more than happy to help out, and for a moment Keith wondered whether that grin was the real deal, or if his navigator was merely biding his time until he returned to Earth. Not that Coran had contacted the Garrison, of course. There was too much to do on his planet for him to waste time making arrangements for Sven's deportation.

Not that anyone would ever tell Sven that. No way. The Viking was eager to return home and start the next chapter of his life with his _elskede_. Who would want to mess with his head? Not someone who valued his life, at any rate.

The children of Arus, the same ones who had hidden out in the caves and the forest for God knows how many years, approached him in earnest. Obviously, _they_ were not afraid of him. As they reached their hands out for food, Sven smiled at them, patting their heads and placing tin cans in their hands. "Here you go, _mine små_. Enjoy."

The children blinked back at him, unsure if they should trust him, but hunger got the better of them. Snatching the cans, they retreated with their food, giggling amongst themselves like they had just gotten away with something scandalous.

As he watched them run away, the delighted smile playing at his lips, he noticed something on the horizon.

* * *

"So, where are we going, Ace?"

Aidan didn't dare take his eyes off the road. If he so much as glanced over at the woman in his passenger seat, he might never stop looking at her, and that would be disastrous with him behind the wheel. Better to stay focused on the task at hand. "It's a surprise, Babe."

"As long as it's not dressy. I look like a slob."

 _You, my dear, could_ _never_ _look like a slob._ Even in her workout clothes and sneakers, with her disheveled hair piled on top of her head, Lenora radiated some sort of "it" factor that most other women would kill to possess. "Hardly, Babe. What I said before still stands: you look _hot._ "

An unnamed feeling crept up Lenora's spine as her back stiffened. "Aidan." She purposely didn't use his nickname. "Stop."

"Oh, Babe, relax." Keeping his eyes fixed on the traffic ahead, he casually placed his right hand over her knee. "I know you're engaged. I'm not coming on to you."

She swatted his hand away. "It doesn't feel like you mean that."

"Good Lord." He rolled his eyes, keeping both hands on the steering wheel. Obviously, now was not the time to try put one on her thigh. "Listen, I know about you and your Viking. I'd have to be deaf, dumb and blind not to know about you and your Viking. I'm just paying you a compliment about how much I admire a woman who works out and takes care of herself. To me, that's hot."

"Of course that's what you meant." Her expression told him that she clearly believed he meant otherwise.

He sighed. "Let's just get something to eat."

"Excellent idea, Ace. Lead the way."

* * *

Commander Hawkins watched the monitor. One half showed the Sea Team's Aqua Fighter as it dug the Turbo Terrain Fighter out of the muck. The other showed Jeff's lone Strato Fighter facing off against Hazar's command ship and fleet by itself.

 _There's no way those five kids can hold off an entire fleet by themselves. They need Voltron._ He banged his fists on the console. "We need to give the Air Team as much help as possible. Fire at the enemy! Give them everything we've got!"

Darek pumped his fist in the air. "On it, Commander!"

Sparks rolled his eyes. "You're too excited about this, Darek."

"It's battle! It's good versus evil! It's _something to do_!" Darek looked like a man ready to break out of the ordinary routine.

"Darek," Sparks warned him through clenched teeth, "if we don't die in this battle, I'll make sure I kill you first. Before I do anything else, _I will kill you first_."

The commander nodded his head in agreement.

* * *

The two coffins landed, and Haggar made sure to exit first. She wanted to be certain her precious Robeast had made the journey unscathed, and helped him out as the lid lifted.

"There you are, my pet. I trust the journey was a good one for you?"

It rumbled in reply, a sort of half-purr, half-snarl that the witch determined was a favorable answer. "Excellent. I am most pleased. Now, let's head to the castle and see which one of those five pretty Earthling pilots we can extract from the castle." She licked her lips in anticipation. "And then _destroy_."

The robeast roared in delight.

* * *

Jeff sat like the proverbial deer in the headlights, watching the fighter jets pour out the sides of the Drule command ship and head towards them. There was no time to react or, for that matter, even contact the Explorer to ask Commander Hawkins for advice. He had to trust his gut and his instincts. "Air Team, disassemble!"

Ginger's shocked gasp rang through the general comm. "You want us to _what_?"

"Disassemble."

"Uh, Jeff," Chip cut in, "we'll be sitting ducks if we do that, we'd be better of staying in formation—"

 _"Disassemble!"_

"Sheesh," Rocky griped, "you don't gotta tell me twice."

The team captain ignited the disassemble sequence, and the Strato Fighter split apart into five individual units. Wolo, in his Advanced Recon Helicopter, dodged a Drule fighter jet with millimeters to spare. "Aki, remind me _why_ this was a good idea?"

Jeff's lips hinted at a smile as he grabbed his steering unit. "Because of _this._ " Behind him, he made out the images of the Turbo Terrain Fighter and the Aqua Fighter. "Land Team, Sea Team, disassemble. Then we form Voltron."

Wolo nodded in approval. "I like it."

"Too bad the Drules won't." Not that Jeff cared about that at the moment. Self-preservation, for himself and his teammates, was the ultimate goal here. And if they could secure this planet for Galaxy Garrison, then that was merely an added bonus.

* * *

"Oh. My. God." Jamie set his beer bottle on the ground and stared at the luscious dark-haired vixen stepping off her hoverbike. "Rackens, you failed to mention that your new study buddy is. Freaking. _Gorgeous."_

"Relax, mate. She's a navigator. Kinda dry and witty." David shrugged. "I thought you might like her."

"Whoa." Jamie threw a leg over the fire escape. "You thought right."

"Gatehouse, _what_ in seven hells are you—"

Before he could finish his question, Jamie slid over the railing and dropped down the ladder, scurrying his way to the ground where Morgan stood. She looked surprised to see him. Surprised, amused, and confused. "And...you are…?"

"Jamie." He flashed her a white smile to go with his nearly-white hair. "But you can call me Gatehouse like the rest of my friends."

"Umm...sure. Okay." Morgan lifted her head to the fire escape where David still sat. He nodded to let her know that Jamie was indeed his friend and that she would be fine to follow him through the lobby and up to their apartment.

Though for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why he _wasn't_ okay with the two of them being alone together, even for the shortest amount of time.

* * *

 _Did we do it? Did we really form Voltron?_

It hadn't escaped Jeff's mind that they had never actually formed the mighty robot before. How had they possibly been able to do it? Vehicle Voltron was made up of fifteen subunits. There were a million possible ways for them to mess it up. Yet the interlocking had happened without a problem. It was as though the mecha knew what they were supposed to do without even being told.

"Well, Captain," Crik's voice cut in on the general comm, "now that we've formed Voltron, what would you have us do now?"

"Attack," Jeff suggested.

"Hold on there, mate," Cliff's voice cut in. "We need a strategy first. We can't just go diving in headfirst, all willy-nilly."

It was solid advice, but there was no time to form a plan. If they stood still while Jeff mapped out a course of action, the Drules would crush them. "No. We have to go in, guns blazing." He gripped his controls. "Solar combat spears!"

"You must be joking," Cliff mused as Voltron ran forward towards the Drule command ship. They charged through the jet fighters, the arms reaching forward to retrieve the spears in question.

Jeff ignored the comment as Voltron slashed at the command ship. _If you take down the main hub, the fighter jets are nothing._ "Great! Now, form Blazing Sword!"

Cinda and Modok, Voltron's hands, reached for the helicopter blades on Voltron's shoulders. Clapping the blades together, the sword formed in a literal blaze of glory, slashing at the command ship with all the strength in the mighty robot.

* * *

 _This is bad._

Hazar hadn't counted on anything like this. Opposition? Of course. There would undoubtedly be entities who opposed Planet Drule's taking of any unclaimed planet. He had expected for fight for what Lord Zeppo wanted; he hadn't expected to take it easily. He'd been prepared for battle and melee.

He had _not_ expected anything like this.

"All forces, pull back!"

The crew seemed shocked, if not outright offended, that their commanding officer would order a withdrawal. "Commander Teles," one staff member asked timidly, "are you asking us to _withdraw_? As in, to refrain from fighting?"

Hazar glowered. "Are you an imbecile? Do you not know what _pull back_ means?"

"Oh...of course I do, Sir."

"Then do it." Hazar's eyes turned back to the screen, showing this mighty robot and its mightier sword slashing at them. "And do it quickly, before they sever our ship and render it useless."

"Aye aye, Commander!"

The retreat was put in to the fighter jets, who followed their orders and returned to the command ship. As Hazar and his crew pulled away from the planet and this might robot which they obviously had not expected to encounter, he wondered what Emperor Zeppo might have to say about this situation.

And whether or not he would call it a failure.

* * *

His sixth sense was never wrong. Something was causing a problem. Something which he intended to fix.

"Lance!" he hissed to his old roommate.

The hotshot looked over at his best friend with all the care of a man in the throes of passion with several women at once. Which he might as well have been, since many of Arusian females had emerged from the forest and the caves, falling all over the charming Red Lion pilot. "What _is_ it, Viking?"

"Something's not right."

Lance knew better than to second-guess Sven's intuition. He'd lived with the guy for five years, and trusted his old roommate's gut better than he trusted the words out of any Garrison higher-up's mouth. "Where do you need me to go, Viking? Just say the word and I'm there."

"Don't go anywhere." Sven honed his senses, zeroing in on whatever was wrong. "Get Allura and the Arusians away from here."

"You think there's a problem?"

 _"Ja."_

Sven had never minced words. If his former roommate said there was a problem, there was a problem...and a big one, at that. Nudging Pidge with his elbow, Lance whispered, "Get the princess out of here!"

"Huh?" The systems analyst blinked. "What are you talking about, Lance?"

"Get Allura back to the castle. The Viking's sixth sense say that there's something wrong. He and I are off to investigate."

Pidge's eyes widened behind his glasses. He knew better than to question a bad feeling coming from Sven. "We're out of here."

"Good. Take Keith and Hunk, too." He paused. "Let Keith know what's going on."

"You got it."

"Good." With the matter settled, Lance ran ahead, not waiting for his old roommate to follow.

Sven waited for Pidge to take Allura by the arm, hustling her away, while wordlessly communicating for Keith and Hunk to follow. Once he was sure that the princess would be safe, he followed his brother in arms. All the while, his captain's words echoed in his head. _I need you to keep an eye on Lance...need you to keep a lid on his impulsiveness…_

If this didn't count as impulsive, he didn't know _what_ did. Sven followed his friend to wherever the bad feeling brought them. He could only hope that it didn't mean to their demise.


	16. Dark Horse

_Author's Note_ _: I have always dreaded writing this chapter. If you know me, you know I love Sven, so this was a tough one for me. I'll let that sink in, I won't say anything else._

 _To warzoneprez: There's no hate for the VV dubs, I promise. It's more of a disappointment, like WEP could have done SO much better, but they didn't. Honestly, the dubs don't hold a candle to the subs in this case. But with LV, it makes all the difference. As we've chatted about before, I don't think I would have liked Voltron at all if I had only watched GoLion, so thank God for the dubs._

 _To Emie Mac: Thanks for the compliment, my Doll! I always try to incorporate backstories to make things more interesting._

 _To sunshineleo: My lovely, you and I have so much fun when in Vegas. I will never be able to go to La Cave without you, pinky swear. Now, go read this chapter, I know we talked about it in Vegas. PS: I hope you & T had so much fun this summer!_

 _To qiavance: I'm so pleased that you like my little story here. Happy reading!_

 ** _Title Song: "Dark Horse" by Katy Perry ft. Juicy J_**

* * *

She had to give him credit: Aidan had chosen the perfect place for dinner.

Sullivan's Bar, located on Manhattan's Lower East Side, was the perfect mix of upscale and laid-back casual. "The burgers and wings here are ridiculous," he promised as he ushered her into a booth. "And the drinks aren't half bad, either."

She rolled her eyes. "Ridiculous burgers and wings, and not-half-bad drinks. Such a glowing endorsement, Dalloway."

"I meant ridiculous in a _good_ way." He winked as he slid into the booth next to her. "This place is a freakin' hidden gem."

"So you say." Lenora's gaze drifted to the bar. Sullivan's was really busy for the middle of the week; it looked like the regulars were already on their barstools and ready for their drinks and food. At least, in terms of her clothes, she fit in. She was by far not the only person in athleisure wear.

He'd chosen correctly.

The booth was in a semi-circle, made of cushioned red pleather that reminded her suspiciously of the Russian Tea Room, and she stared at the menu while she tried to ignore how close he was. The tablet held so many pages, mostly craft beers and house cocktails, that it was hard to find the food. Not that she was hungry anymore. Being alone with Aidan made her nervous.

As he also scanned through the menu, the waitress appeared by their table. After introducing herself, she asked, "What drinks can I start you with?"

Aidan ordered some pretentious craft beer, and Lenora answered, "I'll have a vodka tonic with lime."

The waitress appeared disappointed by her less-than-special cocktail decision. "Any specific vodka?"

"Cîroc, if you have it."

"I do. Be right back."

The waitress scurried away with their drink orders, leaving Aidan aghast. _"Babe,"_ he groaned, "you're a wino. You love your red wine. Why in hell didn't you order something from their wine list? They've got the best cabs, merlots, and pinots I've ever seen."

Lenora didn't know how to explain her choice to him. It was as though every time she missed her beloved—really, _truly_ missed him, in that way that made her soul ache as much as her heart—she did whatever little thing she could do to bring him into her life. And if that meant imbibing his favorite cocktail, then she did. "I'm missing Sven," she explained with a meek shrug.

Her explanation didn't truly convey the depth of what she felt, but it was enough. Aidan would throw up if he knew the extent of it, anyway.

He rolled his eyes as expected, but didn't say a word to the contrary. "Well," he accepted, "as long as I'm not drinking alone, it's cool."

"Don't worry, you won't be."

"And I swear, I'm not coming on to you."

"If you say so." But she didn't believe it. And, even if he wasn't lying, she didn't know how long he would feel that way, and _that_ was what made her nervous.

* * *

Although Sven's sixth sense was much sharper, his own wasn't half-bad.

"I know I saw something!" Lance shouted over his shoulder to his friend. "There was a cat or something similarly small and fuzzy. Definitely _not_ something I've seen since we've been on Arus."

"A cat?" As he ran, Sven remembered snippets from their time on Doom. There was Zarkon, of course. Yurak, the commander with the single good eye. And Haggar the witch, hiding behind her hood, smirking at them and stroking her pet…

 _It's the witch's cat._

His gut reaction was one of horror as he watched his old roommate run ahead, chasing after the cat. "Lance, _no_!"

Too late. A net came down over Lance's head. As he struggled against it, the cat hissed and spit, almost as though the despicable creature was laughing at him. But no, it wasn't the cat laughing. It was his master.

Haggar the witch.

 _Oh no._ _Kjære Gud, ne_ _i._

* * *

Commander Hawkins suppressed a grin as he watched the Drule ships fall back on the monitor. No, he wasn't gloating over the fact that Voltron had won the battle and the enemy was retreating. He was trying to keep himself composed as Sparks swatted Derek upside the head.

"Ow! What was that for?" the tech sergeant shrieked.

"I _told_ you I was going to kill you first," Sparks replied with an evil grin.

Even Goldman, the navigator, cracked a grin. "He _did_ say that," he reminded Darek. "Too bad for you, Sparks makes good on his promises."

As Captain Newley laughed, Hawkins breathed a sigh of relief. He watched the fifteen Vehicle Voltron units return safely to the ship, docking in their respective bays. Opening the general comm, he told the team, "I'm very proud of all of you. You did an excellent job today. I'll tell Sammy that drinks are on me tonight."

He heard the cheers from the team over the comm before shutting it off. As he looked over at Newley, the captain commented, "You're going to regret that."

"Possibly," Hawkins answered. "But I really don't think so."

"I hope you have something just as good in your quarters."

He lifted a brow. "Maybe better."

 _"Ooh._ Save me a glass, will you?"

"You wish." Hawkins pushed away from the control panel and headed towards his quarters. "After that, gentlemen, I think I'm going to retire for the evening. Rich, you're in charge. Try not to blow up my uncle's ship on your watch."

"You're a real a-"

The door slid shut behind him as Newley spewed obscenities in his direction. Half of his mouth turned up in that suppressed grin he'd been holding. It would feel good to relax after their confrontation with the Drules, to take comfort in solitude and a glass or two of whisky. The only thing better than that feeling would be if Jeff could finally come up with someone to be his second. But, given the outcome of the day's events, he figured he would cut the team captain some slack.

* * *

Jeff keyed in the code to his room on the exterior panel and waited for the door slide open.

It had been quite a day. _Voltron!_ They had actually formed the giant robot. It was quite the rush for the Air Team captain, and he was sure that the rest of his teammates felt the same way. Not to mention the fact that he was relieved. _Thank God,_ he thought, mentally wiping the sweat from his brow. _Now Commander Hawkins won't want to kill me._

He stepped into his room, looking behind him to make sure that the door slid into place. He locked it, wanting nothing more than a hot shower and a good night's sleep. The experience of forming Voltron had both overwhelmed and drained him in the best way.

As his eyes scanned the room, he didn't expect the sight before him.

Ginger lounged on the beanbag chair on his floor, but she wasn't wearing her Air Team uniform. She had dressed herself in a silky pink camisole, the neckline plunging low enough to reveal a hint of décolletage beneath a layer of red lace. A matching pair of boy-cut shorts clung to her magnificent backside, and both her lips and toenails were painted a fiery, enticing red.

"Whoa." He whistled, his eyes growing huge. "Gingie! What are you doing here?"

"It should be obvious, Jeffrey." She batted her long lashes at him.

"Oh." His shock was painfully—embarrassingly—obvious. _"Really?"_

" _Really_ , Jeff." She laughed gently, lifting herself off the beanbag chair in what could only be described as a sultry manner. "Now, the better question is, what were you planning on doing tonight?"

"Oh, um...I was gonna take a shower and go to bed," he answered lamely.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in. "Would you like company?"

 _No way. No. Freaking. Way._ Was Ginger Ellington seducing him? Even after her fling on Senior Night with Lance McClain? And, if she was actually offering, was he really going to pass up the opportunity?

"Actually…?" _Enough with the hesitation, Aki. Can't you make a decision for once in your freaking life? If you can't pick between Cliff and Crik, at least you can do_ _this_ _._ "Actually, yeah. I _would_ like company."

Ginger smiled, pushing herself off the beanbag chair and lifting her camisole over her head. "Lead the way, Jeffrey."

As he headed to the shower, lifting his own shirt over his head, he couldn't help but feel excited. If one of Lance's girls was giving him a shot, then—despite his sorry track record with the ladies at the Academy—he couldn't be as much of a loser as he gave himself credit for.

* * *

"Here you go, Morgan. I hope you like pale ale. Your _study buddy_ here prefers his brews dark, strong, and imported."

"Is there something wrong with that?" Morgan accepted the beer from Jamie, for which he had made an impromptu run to the package store to pick up. " _I_ like brews that are dark, strong, and imported." She popped the cap off her bottle and took a sip. "'Course, I _also_ like pale ale."

"A girl after my own heart," Jamie beamed.

David furrowed his eyebrows. He could practically see the tiny hearts dancing around in Jamie's eyes. His roommate was crushing hard on Morgan, that was for certain. "Seven hells, Gatehouse, bugger off and let us study already."

Morgan looked perturbed. "Leave him alone, David. I like this guy. He's nice. He's not so…" She fumbled for words. _"Proper."_

"Oh? That's the best insult you could lob at me, you bloody navigator?"

"And the best _you_ can do is _bloody navigator_? That's what I _am_ , you dweeb."

Jamie burst out laughing. He was still laughing as he reached over and retrieved one of the beers he'd just bought. Popping the cap, he clinked his bottle against Morgan's. "Now _there's_ a word I haven't heard in a while. _Dweeb._ Thank you for bringing her into this apartment, Rackens. I'm gonna marry this girl."

At that, David wished he had an extremely strong import of his own, to both drink _and_ crack his roommate over the skull with.

* * *

As Sven cut Lance out of the net, Keith's words rang in his mind: _I need you to keep an eye on Lance...I've got Hunk and Pidge covered if you can take care of your old roommate_... _I just need you to keep a lid on his impulsiveness, at least while we're trying to figure things out_. He was a man of his word. He would keep his promise to his team leader, no matter what the consequences might be.

The old witch cackled in the background as he helped his old roommate up. "It doesn't matter which one of you stays and which one of you leaves," she taunted them. "Either one of you will do."

Sven's slate-blue eyes widened. _Either one of us will do?_ _Hellig helvete_. Turning to his friend, he shouted, "Get back to the castle and grab the others!"

Lance freed himself from the net. "But—"

He placed both hands on Lance's back and pushed. "Just _go_!"

The cocky flyboy knew better than to question the Norwegian's orders. "You got it, man!" he shouted as he fled the scene, his skinny legs carrying him in the direction of the castle faster than he had ever run before.

 _There. Now I know he's safe. I did exactly what Keith asked of me._ The good soldier to the end, he turned to stare down the witch. "Now you can go back to whatever demon sent you here."

Haggar shot him an almost-sympathetic glance. "I should say the same to you, Boy."

Sven gripped his weapon; his blaster was never far from his side. _I only need to hold her off long enough for back-up to arrive. The guys will be here any second now._ But every second felt like an eternity. Even though he was as accomplished as any graduate of the Space Academy could hope to be, he was still a novice. He was still new to space exploration.

And Haggar was very, _very_ well-practiced in her arts. Of that, he was certain.

* * *

Aidan's hamburger and fries looked stupid delicious. Lenora's mouth watered at the sight of his food as she dug into her own meal, a spicy arugula salad with lemon and parmesan cheese, with plenty of grilled shrimp on top. The lemon made her mouth pucker, and her cocktail wasn't helping in terms of offsetting the tartness.

Her discipline made her do it. She'd love nothing better than a burger, but she—much like her beloved—had made a habit out of taking care of her body. Food was fuel, exercise was essential. If she was having alcohol, she paired it with fish and vegetables. It was a rule she lived by.

"Your salad looks good." Aidan took an enormous bite out of his burger. It was a lie, and they both knew it.

"It's okay." She dug her fork into the spicy greens and chewed. Her lips burned from too much lemon. "I'm sure your burger is better."

"Well, Sullivan's is known for its burgers." He put his sandwich back down on the plate and reached for a french fry. "You want one?"

She desperately wanted a french fry, but… _Discipline_. "No, thank you. I'm good with what I have."

Aidan's eyebrows furrowed only so much, and his eyes darkened just slightly, but her attention to detail had been honed by her new job. "What's the matter?" she asked.

"That's your philosophy in life, isn't it?" he spat out.

 _"Huh?"_ This conversation was lost on her.

"You're good. With. What. You. Have." He enunciated the words clearly, almost sarcastically. "Like Sven. What you have. But you don't have him right now."

"What does Sven have to do with this?"

"Do you know how miserable you are without him, Babe? Do you know how hard it is for us to watch you like this?" He pounded his fist on the table. "How hard it is for _me_ to watch you like this?"

She narrowed her eyes as she placed her fork down on the table. "I wasn't aware that my missing my fiancé had anything to do with _you_."

"Your attitude has been all mopey. It's tough to watch."

Her head pounded. "What is _wrong_ with you?" she hissed. "We came out here to have dinner, and you're mad at me because I'm sad that Sven has been gone for months? Well, how would you feel if I told you that I miss _all_ of them? I miss Lance, Tsuyo, Darrell, and Keith, too."

Angrily, he took a bite out of his burger. He chewed furiously, thinking over his answer before swallowing. "Come on, Babe. It's Sven. We all know you're moping over Sven. Sure, you miss the others, too. Hell, _I_ miss them. But you don't see _me_ acting all weak and needy the way _you_ have been for the last few months."

Speechless. She was speechless. Any retorts or clever comebacks she might have had were paralyzed in her throat. Tears came to her eyes, but she swallowed them back. Aidan didn't deserve the pleasure of watching her cry.

"Go to hell, Dalloway." She slid out of the booth and dashed for the exit.

Aidan realized what he'd done, and frantically threw some bills down on the table to cover their meals. "Babe!" he shouted, chasing after her. "Come on, I'm sorry! I wasn't trying to hurt you, honest!"

He found her on the street, trying to flag a cab down. "Babe, _stop_ ," he insisted. "Let me at least drive you home."

She glared at him, but relented.

* * *

 _Humans are foolish. They are very easily tricked._ At least, that was what she told herself as she attacked Sven.

Having never fought one before, Haggar wanted to see what these Earthlings were made of. She kept her robeast in check, hidden until absolutely necessary. She wanted to see how much force the human body could withstand before it broke. And, in keeping with that sentiment, how much torment could the human _mind_ weather before it shattered?

Such a convenient little experiment, this.

 _Let's find out what he can handle. Can he see through my illusions?_ Haggar revelled in this human's fear and anxiety; after all, he and his teammates had made her look bad in front of Zarkon when they escaped from Castle Doom's dungeons. _More_ than bad. They made her look inefficient, weak, and incompetent. None of those were desirable adjectives when it came to facing her king.

Slamming the tip of her staff to the ground, she created multiple images of herself. Messing with the human's head was more fun than she had bargained for. She watched his face contort, terrified by the optical illusion and the fact that the witch could strike him at any time, and he'd be unprepared to stop her.

But something wasn't right.

There was something...or some _one_...in his heart. Whatever it was, it kept him going, kept him on his feet and fighting. It took Haggar, with all her infinite years of jaded and bitter feelings, a moment to realize _what_ he was fighting for.

This young human was in love. And whoever this person was, it kept him fighting.

 _Pathetic._ Haggar loathed the idea of love; for her, the notion had died a painful death many eons ago. But it was driving the human to continue the fight, and that spark needed to be extinguished for her to be successful.

He would keep going, she knew. He would keep fighting. But so would she. And, in such hand-to-hand combat, the victor would be the one with the robeast on her side.

* * *

Lance was out of breath as he approached the castle. His lungs were on fire and his legs were sure to give out any moment, but he kept onward. Sven needed him. His oldest friend needed help, and needed it now.

 _Come on, Buddy, hang in there._ His pace seemed sustained by the force of sheer will. Lance had never been a runner. A gunner, perhaps, and definitely a pilot. But not a runner. He left that stupid running business for Cliff and Kelly. Today, though, he was giving his two old floormates the proverbial run for their money.

Keith, as always, had been standing guard by the monitor. The princess was flanked by Hunk and Pidge, with Coran nervously fidgeting in the background. At the first sign of something headed towards the castle, he zoomed in. It took a moment for the image to register. _It's Lance. He's sure hauling tail...but where's Sven?_

Nervously, he turned to Coran. Trying to keep all composure, he shouted, "Open the gate! It's Lance!"

Coming over to the control panel, Coran nodded and hit a button. Immediately, the drawbridge lowered, providing access across the blue lake to the Castle of Lions.

"Whoa. Lance is _movin'_." Hunk whistled in appreciation of the Red Lion pilot's speed, which far surpassed any gym records any of them had set at the Academy.

"But where's Sven?" Pidge piped up, his voice rising with concern.

Keith inhaled, never taking his eyes off the screen. His nerves were on fire and his stomach was in knots as Lance crossed the drawbridge and raced into the castle. "I need to get to him!" he shouted, dashing from the control room and into the new Great Hall.

As Lance entered the castle, he placed his hands over his knees and gulped in the air. His entire body was on fire, every nerve ending tingling in agony. He barely noticed Keith as he raced down the main staircase. "Sven...he needs help!"

"Then let's _go_!" Keith frantically began to set out on foot.

"Wait!" Allura's cry bounced off the wall as she rushed down the stairs after Keith. "Horses! There are horses in the stable!"

"Whuh...whuh's tha gotta do with Sven?" Lance wheezed.

"You'll get to him faster if you're on horses!" she shrieked. "And make sure you have weapons! You don't know what sort of monster you're dealing with!"

Lance swallowed. He _did_ know what kind of monster they were dealing with; it was Haggar herself. There was no time to waste on getting horses. But then again, once they got the horses, they would move exponentially faster than they would on foot. And he wasn't exactly keen on the idea of running back to the place he'd come from at lightning speed.

Then there was the matter of getting Sven back to the castle...provided he was still alive.

"Okay, Princess. You win. Let's get horses," he acquiesced.

Keith looked at Lance, then at Allura, and nodded in agreement. The Princess waved them over to her. "Follow me."

Though it seemed weird that this new Castle of Lions had horses and stables— _and_ that Allura just happened to know where they were—Lance decided not to overthink or argue. They needed to get to Sven. At this moment, he was the only thing that mattered.

* * *

Sitting in the passenger seat, Lenora clung to the side of Aidan's hovercar. She was so annoyed with him, she didn't know where to begin, and for the life of her, she couldn't see any way for the two of them to remain friends. Purposely keeping her mouth shut and her eyes out the window, they made the drive back to the Valley in an uncomfortable silence.

When familiar buildings began to appear, she gripped the armrest and gritted her teeth together. She wanted to jump out of his vehicle, that was how badly she wanted to get away from him. But she waited for him to pull close to her building before shoving open the door.

"Babe…" His expression was crushed.

"Oh, Dalloway, don't give me that frickin' _Babe_ business!" she shouted, balling her fists at her side. Thunder cracked overhead, indicating an imminent storm, but she didn't even notice. "You have done absolutely _nothing_ to help me tonight. _Zero!_ Do you understand?"

At first, he looked confused. For a second. Then his eyes narrowed into beautiful blue slits, his facial features hardening. "Lenora Marie Stensson," he hissed, "I'm only trying to help you."

"Some help!" she fumed.

"I'm sorry." He eased up, his expression softening, and he raised his hands above his head as if in surrender. "I didn't want to hurt you, and I wasn't trying to split you up from your Viking. I swear to God, I wasn't."

"That's not what it sounded like." She turned to the main door to her building and stopped, her fingers hovering over the keypad, and looked over her shoulder to glare at him. "Why don't you just admit it, Dalloway? You're pissed because I still love him, and I still want to be with him despite the fact that he's gone and _you're right here_."

It was a low blow, but he absorbed it gracefully. Dipping his head, he said his good-bye. "It's obvious you're in no mood to continue this conversation, Lenora. I'll let you get to bed. Maybe call me tomorrow, when you have a clearer head."

"Fat chance," she muttered under her breath. As she typed in the keycode to unlock the main door, she shouted, "Good night, Dalloway."

Had she looked over at him before ducking back into the building, she would have seen the crestfallen expression on his face as he climbed back into his hovercar. But she hadn't. Instead, she climbed up the stairs to her studio apartment, wondering why he'd suddenly become a dark horse and turned on her.

She knew that Aidan had always liked her, and because of that, had always disliked Sven. But, with her beloved's wedding band strung around her neck, she wondered why the good-looking blond hadn't yet gotten it through his thick skull that they would never be together.

Her apartment was dark, and she made her way through the darkness and flopped down onto her mattress. She didn't remove her make-up or take a shower or even change into her pajamas. She just wanted to sleep off the night and the storm ahead.

Maybe she'd call Aidan tomorrow. Or maybe she wouldn't. But she was going to sleep regardless. Sleep and dream about Sven.

* * *

 _How is he still upright?_ After all of the tricks Haggar had thrown at the human, not only was he upright, but he still had fire left in him. The fight had not left his body, even after everything she'd done to him. _Perhaps the I allowed the wrong Earthling to get away. This one is much tougher to kill than I gave him credit for._

Of course, she had also discredited the power of love. But how could she believe in it? Too many lifetimes had passed since she'd experienced that emotion.

"It's time for you to get a taste of _my_ magic, _gammel heks!_ " Sven charged forward, his blade outstretched in front of him. It was kill or be killed, but he had this. This was what he'd been trained for. The witch was too old and too frail. Physically, he had the advantage, but there was also no way she could survive a blow from him.

"So, you want to play with magic, Boy?" Haggar taunted him. "You should know what you're fighting... _and_ what you're fighting for."

As Sven closed the distance between them, she flicked her wrist, and her cat jumped out from behind her and bit him on the neck.

 _Vampire. It's a vampire._ He struggled with the cat, its fangs and claws buried deep into his neck and shoulder. The pain was indescribable, something like fire and ice through his veins at the same time, and it was the only thing he could focus on as he tried to throw the wretched animal off.

Haggar smiled as she motioned for her robeast to finish the job.

Because he was already in such blinding pain, Sven didn't hear the roar from the robeast's mouth. He was entirely unprepared as its claw came across the other side of his neck. With a nasty hiss, the cat jumped off him and onto the pleased witch's shoulder.

If he had been in pain before, it was _nothing_ compared to the pain he felt now. His breath died in his lungs, and he dropped to his knees, struggling for air. As his consciousnesses faded, he allowed himself one final thought before the darkness took him.

 _Elskede_ _...I'm sorry I failed...I love you._

* * *

Thunder cracked in the night sky, waking Lenora up from a restless sleep. As she sat up in bed, sweating, her heart pounding, she knew that something was wrong. She just _knew_.


End file.
